The Dark Harvest
by PippinTook
Summary: An Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic. Chased from his country by his own family, Jardin Greyhelm uncovers a plot to raise ancient secrets that should have remained forgotten. However, Jardin is haunted by traitors, assassins, and his own dreams.
1. Homecoming

Untitled 

Note: While this is indeed a Final Fantasy Tactics fanfic, most of the characters are entirely original. However, Alazlam, Ramza, Orlandu, chocobos, and several other people, places, and things are property of Square and I take no credit for them. You know the drill. 

To: Hama Croine, Moderator of Ancient History Committee, Ivalice Center of Historical Studies 

From: Alazlam, chief scholar of ancient history, Igros University 

Dr. Croine, you may remember me from my controversial report on the subject of Ramza Beoulve and the Lion War, which was sent to you around two years ago (once again I apologize for the numerous typographical errors found in that report). 

As promised, I have finally finished translating the ancient scripts and compiling them into a full report. To say that the findings are incredibly revealing and informative would be an understatement. 

Have you ever heard of a man named Jardin Greyhelm? If not, I'd question your prominent position in the Ivalice Center of Historical Studies. According to legend, he saved the world from an attack of demons, and, while the myth has exaggerated the truth, you will be interested to know that Greyhelm was an actual figure in history. He lived around one hundred years before the Fifty Year War, the period we historians refer to as the Dark Age as we have precious little knowledge of that time. I have discovered his military record, part of which I have copied here: 

Jardin Greyhelm 

Social Class: Noble 

Military Class: Apprentice Swordsman 

- Basic Skills- Mastered 

- Stasis Sword- Mastered 

- Dark Sword- Mastered 

- Shellbust Stab- Mastered 

Military Rank: Captain 

Questionable Behavior: None 

Comments: Respectful, valiant, and obedient 

As you can see, he was your average poster-boy soldier beginning a promising military career. 

Now I will let you read my exact discoveries. I have compiled all the information into a tale that will be a welcome addition to the history books. Our story begins during the first year of the legendary Gaian War, at Mandalia Plains. 

FFT: THE DARK HARVEST 

CHAPTER 1: HOMECOMING 

A pathetic groan escaped from the shrouded mouth of the Black Mage before his soul fled to the afterlife. Jardin pulled his iron sword out of the body just in time to parry the blow of an enemy knight wielding a broadsword. Keeping his eye on the weapon, Jardin danced to and fro like a drunkard with a new bottle of Mako Whiskey, waiting for the knight to make an attack. The sword moved! Greyhelm laughed as he dodged the clumsy blow and counter attacked, cutting through cloth, iron, and flesh. The knight fell silently, a pool of blood slowly gathering under him. He glanced about his surroundings for more enemies, but there were none to be found. 

Captain Jardin Greyhelm pulled his drenched cloak about his shoulders as he surveyed the battlefield. A heavy rain pelted the ground, washing the blood and gore down the hill in small rivulets. Towards the east, one of his Black Mages hit a knight with Fire, totally incinerating him. His best monk scored a thief's jaw with a devastating uppercut, and a lancer crashed down on a White Mage with a mighty leap. The battle was clearly won. 

A good thing too. This band of enemies had come down from Tabreum, the country to the north that was at war with Ivalice, with the intention of attacking the Magic City Gariland. Jardin and his squad had intercepted them here to prevent them from reaching their destination. Gariland trained the best magic-oriented soldiers in the country, and its downfall would have been a terrible blow for Ivalice. 

Jardin allowed himself a smile, pushing his light brown hair out of his face. At twenty-three, he was well built but a little short compared to most men his age (a fact that puzzled him as he looked at his tall, strong family). Despite his stature and a brown scar that stretched across his forehead, his well-defined cheekbones and cheerful personality usually made him pretty popular with the ladies. After stretching his arms and yawning, he began preparations for the march back to camp. His work was interrupted, however, with a cry from one of his men, who was running toward him at a deliberate speed. 

It was Romalion "Romo" Descarei, the highest-ranking soldier in Jardin's attack squadron, and his best friend as well. Romo was a knight experienced in archery, and his sniping abilities with a crossbow were legendary. As always, Romo had his shoulder length sandy blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail, which, now wet, clung to the light ring mail (Romo's favorite armor) on his back. He was holding his tempered steel helm under his arm and letting the rain wash the battle filth from him. A short sword clattered about his legs as he ran. 

"Ahh, hello Romo!" grinned Jardin. "I'm glad to see you're alright!" 

"So am I," laughed his friend. " But I feared an attack little, as I shot down any soldiers that tried to climb the hill I stood on. But enough of me! That was some impressive swordplay, my friend. Stasis Sword- wow! It almost makes me wish that I was training to be a Holy Swordsman as well." 

"You'd probably change your mind when you realize how long it takes to reach Holy Swordsman. I'm afraid I won't experience the honor until I'm forty or fifty." 

"Heh, you're probably right, considering my patience." 

"It would be infinitely harder for you, anyway, as you are not a noble." 

"Oh well, my abilities suit me just fine," Romo said with a chuckle. 

"Well, why don't you help me rally the troops so we can get back to camp." 

A week later at the military encampment, Jardin idled lazily in a hammock. Sighing, he reached for the meager pile of mail that awaited him. He leafed through the various envelopes and scrolls, looking for items of interest. There wasn't much there except a few letters from friends back home at Igros, a letter from the military, and his salary (which managed to extract a quiet whoop from the young captain). As he reached for the military letter, he found himself dreading what it could contain. What if it had orders to move out again, so soon after the battle at Mandalia plains? 

Jardin broke the wax seal carefully, unrolled the scroll, and read the message, a grin slowly spreading across his face. 

"Captain Greyhelm," it read, "we would like to congratulate you and your men on your recent victory at Mandalia, not to mention the previous accomplishments at Sweegy wood, Luron highway, and your impressive rescue mission at Fort Garilesh. We would like to reward you for this impressive track record. You and your men will be allowed two weeks leave to visit your families and friends. In addition, you will receive a bonus in your salaries next month. 

"Once again, congratulations on your accomplishments. We will be watching your military career with interest. General Heagan Withrope" 

Jardin nearly fell out of his hammock as he rushed out of his tent. Racing past the rows of drab brown tents, he ran to the camp center. A small bonfire always burned there, and several bodies huddled around it in a tight circle, seeking the heat. Jardin grabbed one of these figures by the collar and yanked him out of the ring. Romo blinked in surprise as Jardin shoved the letter in his face. 

"Look, Romo! We get two weeks off! Two beautiful weeks free from violence, bloodshed, and battle! Two glorious weeks in a real bed, free from this military crap they call food! Two wonderful weeks of-" 

"Okay, Jardin! I get the picture! But this IS wonderful news! I can't wait to see my family!" 

The two friends walked off together, talking excitedly about friends and making plans for the next two weeks. 

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 0.6.7 --> 


	2. A Sinister Business

CHAPTER TWO: A SINISTER BUSINESS  
  
Jardin rolled about fitfully in his expensive feather bed, shutting his eyes tightly. His legs tangled with the silk sheets, and in his hands he wrung a pillow like a sponge. Rain pelted the windowpanes, and a loud thunderclap boomed in the distance. Drops of sweat ran from his forehead down his face, mingling with the tears that streamed from his eyes. Suddenly, he cried out in his sleep, a cry of pure terror. As he twisted the pillow into a shapeless lump, unintelligible words began to spill from his lips. "Aea groibar, motelith crumbar duribile! Ascarii gulexith oau nau wimbaleth!" he muttered feverishly, over and over again. Slowly, he began to relax. His shoulders loosened, and the pillow fell from his grasp. Abruptly, his peaceful countenance twisted into an expression of horror, and he awoke with a scream.  
  
Jardin sat silently in the dark, breathing heavily. As always, he had no recollection of the apparitions that had so troubled his mind, but that was probably not a bad thing.  
  
Presently, a servant quietly knocked on the door. "Come in," croaked Jardin quietly.  
  
"Excuse me, Master Jardin," the servant began politely, "but I heard you scream. Are you quite alright?"  
  
"Yes, just a bad dream. Nothing to worry about. Go back to bed, and my apologies for disturbing your sleep."  
  
"Ahh, I'm sorry you're still having those nightmares. Well, if I may take my leave." Jardin thought he heard the servant mutter something under his breath about Readon being pleased, but before he could ask about it, the servant was gone.  
  
Readon Greyhelm was Jardin's eldest brother by twelve years, and he was everything a noble should be- strong, handsome, brave, and proud. He always kept his jet-black hair combed backwards, with not a strand out of place, his goatee carefully trimmed, and his clothes perfectly pressed. With a mere glint of his gray eyes, he could make a timid man tremble, and a harsh word could make a coward weep. It might have just been his brother's naturally rigid nature, but it seemed to Jardin that Readon was always cold and disapproving towards him. Readon had been married to a young, beautiful woman once upon a time, but she had disappeared a year ago under mysterious circumstances, leaving their small child Orba, now four years of age, with him.  
  
As well as Readon, Jardin also had a younger brother named Jezrel, but his bed was found empty one morning a year before the similar disappearance of Readon's wife. If he was still alive, Jezrel would be about twenty.  
  
Jardin's father, Kirgin Greyhelm, still lived, but he was so old and dilapidated that he lay in bed continually. Age weighed heavily on his mind, and diseases had robbed him of all memory. Thus, Readon was the recognized leader of the house of Greyhelm.  
  
Turning his thoughts away from his family, Jardin reflected on his past two weeks at Igros. They had been disappointing, to say the least. Most of his and Romo's friends we're either drafted into the military or too busy to see them. His brother had all but ignored him, and most of his time was spent idling with Romo. Tomorrow, he would get his friend, who was staying with his father, and head back to the military encampment.  
  
Jardin relaxed back into his bed, but the unknown fear of his dream still lingered in his mind. After several unsuccessful attempts to fall asleep, he decided to take a stroll around the estate. Untangling himself from his bed sheets, he put on his clothing, girded his sword, and left his room. After walking down the hallway quietly and descending a flight of stairs, he had reached the front door parlor. Once again, he marveled at the gorgeous marble tile, the rich tapestries, the red carpet, and the dark cedar wood that adorned the manor. Walking up to the door, he opened it a crack before voices stopped him- the voices of Readon and an unknown stranger. A curiosity flared within Jardin's heart, so strongly that he began to eavesdrop without shame, despite his honorable nature.  
  
"With Igros's current taxes, you should be gleaning around 900,000 gil a month," whispered the stranger quietly.  
  
"Hmmm. not enough.." replied Readon. "I think I'll be raising them another 5%."  
  
"Readon, are you sure you can keep your peasants from revolting? Taxes this high."  
  
"Griffin, this is the entire point of the war! High taxes are to be expected during wartime!"  
  
"If you can manage it, then it would do wonders for your prominence in the Convocation. Ever since you suggested this pact with Tabreum, you've been very popular. There's an election for the leader of the Convocation coming up. Donate enough of your revenue, and you may find yourself in a whole new plane of power."  
  
The Convocation of Nobles, simply referred to as the Convocation, was a government body that came about twenty years ago when every city in Ivalice allied with one another. The leader of every noble family in Ivalice would meet at St. Murond Temple to discuss political issues, as well as donate part of their city's revenue to the organization. Cities were still ruled by the residing aristocratic family, but prodding from the Convocation could greatly influence the mind of a noble. The Convocation was especially active during war, a state Ivalice was constantly in.  
  
"Imagine what I could do with such power." mused Readon thoughtfully, a hint of greed in his deep voice. "Once I am able to rid myself of this pathetic runt so-called my brother, the world will be right again."  
  
Jardin inhaled sharply as stabbing pains pierced his heart. Was his brother talking about him, or did he have some unknown ties with Jezrel? Why would he speak so harshly?  
  
"Oh? Have you acquired the necessary information?" inquired Griffin eagerly.  
  
"I believe so. I have my best scholars working to decode it. Dante was always had such a fetish for security."  
  
"And I trust you will take of the loose ends."  
  
Jardin could take no more of this. Drawing his sword and throwing the door open, he grabbed Griffin, who proved to be much bigger and stronger then his thin, menacing voice would indicate, by his red hair and lifted the sword to his neck. He did not struggle, a fact that relieved Jardin, for the man was dressed in fine armor, and a long sword hung at his belt. Jardin pulled the sheathed sword off his belt and tucked it into his own.  
  
"Make a move, and I swear to God that I will cut his throat!" said Jardin quietly yet intensely.  
  
"Now, Jardin," consoled Readon soothingly. "Some things are better left unexplained. Let's just return to our rooms and forget this happened."  
  
"No! Start explaining, or I cut! You mentioned a pact with Tabreum, and yet we are at war with them. You also said the point of the war was taxes, but the official word is that we are at war because Tabreum was raiding our farms. And-" Jardin's voice choked as he continued-" you spoke very harshly of me. You disowned me as your brother! Why?!"  
  
"Jardin, let him go, or, so help me.." Readon threatened, his voice hardening.  
  
"I WILL CUT HIS THROAT!!!" screamed Jardin, tears filling his eyes.  
  
"Alright! Let him be! I will explain! This is not a real war. yet. It is a front."  
  
"A front? Explain," croaked Jardin, beginning to master his emotions.  
  
"We have made a pact with Tabreum. We are officially in a state of war, but it mostly is an excuse for us to raise our taxes. Tabreum agreed to work on making the war look realistic, and we would provide the funds. So far, it has been a wonderfully inexpensive war. As well as increasing Ivalice's revenue tenfold, it has taken Tabreum's intelligence off our research."  
  
"A front? No! It can't be! I have killed real people! Actual Tabreum citizens! That is not a front!"  
  
"Naïve boy!" sneered the noble. "Have you ever seen a noble in battle? Commoners are worthless to us! We have quite enough to till the fields and sell the merchandise. What is losing a few commoners to us?"  
  
"But I am a noble, and I have seen battle!"  
  
"No, you aren't."  
  
Jardin nearly dropped his sword. "Of course I'm a noble! I am Jardin Greyhelm, son of Kirgin Greyhelm, your brother!"  
  
"You are not my brother," Readon spat. "A long time ago, around the time the Convocation was formed, the commoners of Igros threatened to revolt. You were the son of a respected scholar, loved by all of Igros. Father took you hostage to quell the uprising."  
  
"That cannot be it! You spoke of gathering information from me!"  
  
"That had absolutely no relevance to you. I have told all, so let Griffin go!"  
  
"NO!"  
  
At that moment, several archers and a knight ran up from the barracks near the manor to Readon, awakened by Jardin's scream. The archers immediately hefted their crossbows to their shoulders and took aim at Jardin.  
  
"It's your choice, Jardin. Let Griffin go, or die," taunted the noble.  
  
Jardin looked at the archers, to Readon, then back at the archers. He felt like a cornered mouse being tormented by a pack of alley cats. Finally, he shoved Griffin forward and fled into the darkness.  
  
"You say that you got the necessary information from him?" asked Griffin.  
  
"Yes, I planted a spy in his bedroom, and he wrote everything down," replied Readon, then turning to the soldiers, he coldly commanded, "Kill him." 


	3. Branded

CHAPTER 3: BRANDED  
  
As Jardin ran, he could feel his grief giving way to anger. Tricked! Deceived! The only family he had known had turned on him, and he was alone in the world.  
  
"No! Not alone! Romo would never betray me," Jardin reasoned grimly.  
  
He decided to make for Romo's house and find him. His feet clapped loudly on the cobblestone streets. Suddenly, he became aware of more then one pair of feet making a clamor on the road. He put his back up against the wall of a house and drew both his sword and the one taken from Griffin. Out of the darkness came three of the archers from the manor, eyes gleaming with deadly intent.  
  
"Jardin Dante, I place you under arrest!" called one of them loudly.  
  
"So that is my true father's name," thought Jardin. "At least I'll know that before I die."  
  
"You will come with us quietly to Igros Castle," continued the archer, "where you will be promptly executed for high treason and theft of the Holy Sword, Excalibur."  
  
Jardin looked with amazement at the sword in his hand. This? This was the Holy Sword? Griffin (whoever he was) had wielded Excalibur? Perhaps he wouldn't fall in battle after all!  
  
"If I'm to be executed, then why should I come quietly? No, if today I face death, it will be here and now," replied Jardin, and with that, he charged the nearest enemy.  
  
He felt the wind from a crossbow bolt brush by his ear; he had to fight quickly. He reached the first archer and slashed wildly with his own sword, but the stroke was partially deflected by some sort of plate armor. Following the first blow up with Excalibur, he watched in amazement as the sword cut through the armor as if it were cotton. Screaming something horrible, the first archer fell to the ground. Jardin then leaped out of the way as two more bolts sailed narrowly past him, imbedding themselves into a nearby house.  
  
Dashing at his next foe, Jarding realized he wouldn't make it in time. The archer had already fitted a bolt into his crossbow and was cocking it. Jardin hurled his iron sword with all his strength at his enemy, and the sword struck home beneath the neck.  
  
"Only one more!" triumphed Jardin silently. "I will live through this!"  
  
Just as those thoughts crossed his mind, he felt a sharp pain in his side. An arrow had just missed his ribs, but had managed to lance the skin deeply. Crying out in pain and rage, Jardin rushed at the attacker madly. The archer fumbled for an arrow, but the young soldier was already on him. With one sweep of Excalibur, the crossbow flew from his grasp, cloven in two. Trembling violently, the archer drew a small knife, but that was soon gone as well, knocked several yards away by the Holy Sword. Jardin lifted the sword for the kill, but then saw before him a small, quaking man, arms lifted to ward off the imminent blow. "Very alone and very afraid," realized Jardin. "Just like me." Slowly, he found himself lowering the sword.  
  
"Go home. I will spare you," he told the archer sternly. "But tell Readon this, I will have vengeance! He will pay for this injustice!"  
  
The archer looked up at Jardin, and then, picking himself up, ran off toward Igros Castle.  
  
Losing not a moment, and not even bothering to remove his sword from the dead archer's body, Jardin sprinted toward Romo's house. He had run for about fifteen minutes past the monotonous rows of whitewashed houses when he finally reached 143rd street, where the house that he sought was located. He could hear shouts, and the ringing of metal. Gripping Excalibur fiercely, Jardin ran to the large residence of Romo's father, Thornin Descarei.  
  
The sight was not encouraging. A monk and a knight had cornered Romo, who stood guarding his father with a drawn sword. The old man lay prostrate on the ground, a katana still quivering in his back. A few yards over, the apparent murderer, a ninja, sat dead as a stone with a bloody gash running across his torso.  
  
Screaming various obscenities in several different languages, Jardin ran forward, plunging his sword deep into the monk's unarmored back.  
  
"Jardin! Thank God!" gasped Romo, a bit of blood trickling from his mouth.  
  
Descarei then ran away from the house to the veranda and jumped, catching a lip in the roof and swinging himself on top.  
  
Meanwhile, Jardin was fencing desperately with the knight, who he had underestimated. The captain could not have been sure of his victory, had not a bolt from Romo's crossbow found a home in the knight's neck.  
  
Jardin turned and looked toward the veranda. Romo had fallen to his knees with his face in his hands, sobbing.  
  
"Romo," called Jardin softly, walking to the veranda. "I'm so sorry about your father."  
  
"I-I tried to protect him, but I didn't see the ninja till it was to late!" cried Romo in his grief. "Then those other two cornered me. I parried the knight's attacks while the monk was free to work me over pretty well. But I couldn't protect him, Jardin!"  
  
"I'm sorry if I sound harsh, Romo, but there's no time for grief! We are both fugitives now. I allegedly held a sword to a noble's throat, and they will most likely make up some charges for you."  
  
"W-why?!"  
  
"Because," explained Jardin, "If I were killed, you would not rest until you'd uncovered the truth. Readon foresaw this, and decided to save himself grief by killing us both."  
  
"Readon?!?!"  
  
"I'll explain on the way. We can steal those soldier's chocobos."  
  
"On the way to where? I'm confused."  
  
"We must go to the military encampment. We need to take as many soldiers that are willing to go with us as we can, and I want to get a few items of personal interest."  
  
"I don't know what's going on, but I'm sure you will explain. The chocobos are out back."  
  
During the five hour ride, between the consistent beat of chocobo feet, Jardin explained what he knew of the dark conspiracy of the nobles. Romo listened, sniffing and recovering from the initial shock of his father's death. Rushing past the green hills and trees with incredible swiftness, the chocobos showed no signs of fatigue, but seemingly ran faster by the minute. After a long quiet, Romo finally broke the uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Jardin, Readon lied."  
  
"What are you talking about?" asked Jardin, turning his head.  
  
"You weren't taken as a hostage to put down a rebellion. If you had, I obviously would know about it. For a hostage to work, the people need to know he's a hostage."  
  
"Yes, I knew something was wrong when he said that."  
  
Romo groaned. "Argh, that's another thing I need to talk to you about! You'll get us all killed if you keep talking like a noble!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"For instance, don't say 'yes', say 'yeah'. And use more contractions!"  
  
"You have a point. I'll work on it."  
  
"That sounds better already!" Romo grinned.  
  
The two soon found themselves nearing camp. The green scenery had given way to barren rocks and weeds, and the gray light of morning was peeking over the eastern horizon. Off in the distance, they could see the bonfire in the camp center flickering faintly between the rows of tents. Pressing their chocobos harder, they made for the light.  
  
Upon arrival, Jardin immediately ran for his tent. Pulling a locked sailor's chest out from under his cot, he groped in his pocket for the key.  
  
"No! I must've left it at Igros!"  
  
Swearing a blue streak, he kicked the chest viciously with his steel- toed boot. The old lock immediately snapped and flew off. Jardin opened it eagerly. Throwing out clothing and other various items, he carefully drew out yet another chest. He opened it gingerly, and took out a small silver medallion on a string, a large leather pouch, and a long, double-edged dagger with a gold-plated, jeweled hilt. The medallion he threw around his neck, and the pouch and dagger he fastened to his belt. Romo, who looked at the "treasures" over Jardin's shoulder, glanced at his friend with a question in his eyes.  
  
"I can see you don't know about these things," observed Jardin. "Well, this pouch is my gil pouch. It contains my life savings and has plenty of room for more. The dagger was my first weapon, and a fine one at that. It'll be useful both in and out of battle. And the medallion- well, it seems to be linked with our current dilemma. Look at the small relief carving on the front.  
  
"Well, it seems to be a ship- but what are those bulges on the side with large blades coming out of them?"  
  
"No clue, but I've seen this sign in Igros castle, a drawing of it on one of the papers on Readon's desk."  
  
"So what? Probably a coincidence!" said Romo, waving it off.  
  
"That's what I would think, if it weren't a contract for a bounty hunter!"  
  
Romo opened his mouth to question, but the canvas covering the tent entrance was suddenly pushed aside. Jeremy, one of Jardin's knights, stepped inside dressed in full armor.  
  
"We-ell, look at this!" he grinned mockingly, flashing his yellow teeth. "Captain Greyhelm and Lieutenant Descarei! Please come with me."  
  
"How dare you address your officer in such a manner!" roared Jardin angrily.  
  
Jeremy's smile vanished, a scowl replacing it. He drew his sword menacingly, shouting, "You will come with me now!"  
  
A flash of rage crossed Jardin's face as he whipped out Excalibur. "I don't think you want to cross swords with me," he growled. Romo pulled out his crossbow and loaded it.  
  
Jeremy merely whistled. Three monks and a knight ran out from the shadows behind him, all from Jardin's company. The knight layed his hand on his sword hilt, and the monks stood in a defensive position, ready to use Wave Fist.  
  
Jardin groaned and dropped his sword, which was quickly confiscated by Jeremy. Romo sighed and surrendered his weapons as well.  
  
"Now come with me!" barked Jeremy.  
  
The pair followed the traitor to the camp center, where ten other soldiers awaited, all from Jardin's squad.  
  
"Look what I found!" shouted Jeremy gleefully.  
  
Most cackled greedily in response, though a few gasps could be heard as well.  
  
"Where are the other squadrons?" demanded Romo.  
  
"Oh, they were sent off to battle," replied Jeremy. "We returned from leave to find the camp empty."  
  
"Why have you betrayed us?" Jardin shouted, enraged.  
  
"Ya see, the funniest thing happed. A squire on a chocobo trotted in just an hour or two ago with a couple new Wanted posters. Imagine our shock when we found your faces on them, with a hefty reward of 10,000 gil a head- oh yeah, dead or alive!" With that, Jeremy stepped forward, sword raised. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide. Slowly, the corrupt knight sank to the ground, icicles imbedded in his neck and arms. Linus, a black mage who before becoming a wizard had devoted good years of his life to chemistry, ran to join Jardin and Romo, his staff still glowing with a supernatural light. Hammer, the most experienced monk in the squad, and Kate, a talented lancer who was also well versed in thievery, followed Linus eagerly.  
  
Chaos followed. In one smooth motion, Jardin swept up Excalibur and cut the throat of the nearest monk. Romo ran at the knight holding his weapons, nailing him with a solid haymaker. The knight dropped the crossbow and sword as he fell to the ground, unconscious. Linus roasted two knights and samurai with Fire2, while with a mighty leap Kate soared into the air. Spinning his sword around his head, Jardin released Stasis sword, injuring and decapitating the remaining monks. Meanwhile, Hammer was pummeling an archer into the ground just as Kate crashed down on a Time Mage spear first. Romo had retrieved his weapons and slew many with his crossbow.  
  
However, the battle soon took a turn for the worse. Jardin reeled back from a blow deflected by his armor into the center of the battlefield. Romo and the others found themselves in a similar plight. Realizing this, their enemies surrounded them and began to slowly close in on them like a vise. The party stood back to back in a defensive position, prepared to die well.  
  
Suddenly, three short blasts from a trumpet in the sentinel towers broke the grim silence.  
  
"No! Tabreum's attacking!" cried an inexperienced squire.  
  
The enemy literally dissolved. Running of in various directions, they began preparations to defend the camp.  
  
"We have no time to lose," commanded Jardin. "Linus, Hammer, and Kate, thank you for staying true to us. I will reward you greatly when I can. But now, I need you to get your best armor and weapons, a good supply of food, and then saddle your chocobo. Meet us at the camp entrance." The soldiers obeyed promptly.  
  
As Jardin and Romo walked to the camp entrance, the former captain sighed. "To think I'd be branded a fugitive." 


	4. Escape from Ivalice

CHAPTER 4: ESCAPE FROM IVALICE  
  
  
  
Jardin smiled as he saw the silhouettes of his faithful soldiers approaching the gates astride their chocobos.  
  
"Good! That was quick!" he called. He waited for his company to reach the gate and then turned toward them.  
  
"We're off," he began. "Though I've only thought briefly about this, I have decided to go to Tabreum for a while. Romo and I are convicts here, and I could do little good before being captured. I'll go to Tabreum and see what I can accomplish there. Plus, there's an artifact specialist over there who I want to check out my medallion. But we have no time to discuss the matter, for we've got to go! We'll talk about it further tonight. We'll be making for Spurgin, a town near the Ivalice- Tabreum border."  
  
With that, Jardin urged his chocobo forward, and the others followed suit. They rode all day at a consistently hurried speed, traveling around towns and other populated areas. The war torn landscape proved to be dull and depressing, and the party traveled in grim silence. Resting only for a half-hour at mid-day, they let little distract them from their haste. Finally, when the chocobos were too tired to take another stride, they halted and set up camp in a grassy clearing amid a scraggly wasteland of weeds. Kate went off into the wilderness and killed a wild boar for their supper.  
  
The stars were bright in the sky as the party sat around a campfire eating the roasted pork. A breeze from the west tugged at their clothing and hair, and the chirping of crickets could be heard in the brush nearby.  
  
Jardin looked at his new companions, making note of their features. Hammer was dressed in traditional monk fashion- a red head band, a crimson vest covering his bare chest, and baggy red pants complimented by a green belt. His hair was slicked back like every other one of the noble fist fighters known as monks. In fact, the only ways he defied the poster boy monk impression were his broad face peppered with light scars, and black hair rather then the standard chestnut brown.  
  
Both Kate and Linus, however, were virtually indistinguishable from the fellow members of their military classes. Linus, like every other Black Mage, was the personification of mystery with his tall, pointed straw hat that shrouded his face, his blue cloak that fell across his body, completely covering his torso, and his striped pants. Kate looked very fierce and intimidating in full armor, complete with a helmet that covered all but the upper half of her face and a heavy breastplate and spear. The only thing about her that looked even mildly domestic was the standard blue skirt that reached her ankles.  
  
Romo looked over at Jardin, his breath visible in the crisp night air. "Jardin," he said quietly. "What do you think about what happened today?"  
  
"Well, Readon guessed that we might live through our encounter with the troops dispatched after us in Igros, so he sent those posters over to our camp, I suppose," replied the captain slowly.  
  
"No, I mean the sudden attack on the camp by Tabreum troops."  
  
"Whatever Readon says, this is a real war for the commoners," returned Jardin, suddenly and forcefully. "Even if the nobles stay far away from the fights, there still is death for our fellow commoners. No, the traitors from our squadron will be routed, I'm afraid. Since this is a Pillager's war, one squadron could be quite enough to defend the camp, but after we eliminated some of them."  
  
A Pillager's war was the particular state of war Tabreum and Ivalice currently waged against one another. Battles in a Pillager war were fought with squads number no greater then fifty. Any more then that was considered to be a serious war crime until the state was upgraded into Mass war.  
  
"I'm also wondering about that medallion," continued Romo after a short period of silence. "Do you mean to tell me that Readon's looking for it, and it's been under his nose the whole time?"  
  
"It's not so obscure a possibility. I suspect that my real father gave it to my nurse to give to me as I was taken away. Readon always ignored me, let alone my personal things, and never dreamed that I could have it. In any case, it's a vital clue to our situation.  
  
"Anyway, here's the plan to get into Tabreum. As you know, a long mountain range known as the Breecher Mountains separate Ivalice from Tabreum. There is a pass through the valley of the largest two, but it will be heavily guarded. However, I don't like our chances of going over a mountain without a path. I remember a path over one of the smaller mountains that would be guarded, but not so much that we couldn't sneak past. I feel our best chance is that way.  
  
The group fell back into silence. Jardin looked at Romo, then at Hammer, Linus, and Kate. Suddenly, a jolt of realization coursed through his brain. He and Romo were forced to brave this adventure- they were fugitives. But the three others had a clean record, and he was asking them to wantonly march with him to possible death. How dare he ask such a thing?  
  
"Listen," he told them, "I've realized that I've asked too much of you three. Romo and I have to go, because we both have motives to provoke us and we are both fugitives from the law. You have neither of these. Let me leave you in Spirgon, where you can leave the military and weather this out."  
  
"Captain, we have a very good motive. You are going, and therefore we are obliged to go as well," said Linus.  
  
"No you're not."  
  
"It's our duty-" began Kate.  
  
"It's not you're duty!" snapped Jardin. "I'm no longer a captain!"  
  
"Maybe not in Ivalice," replied Hammer, "but you still command us."  
  
"Fine then. I order you three to stay behind."  
  
Hammer opened his mouth to argue but then sagged his shoulders. "Yes, sir," all three complied reluctantly.  
  
With that, Jardin turned away from the fire and almost instantly fell into a deep slumber.  
  
Meanwhile, back at Igros castle, Readon Greyhelm was sitting in his office staring intently at an old man with bushy gray hair and a scraggly beard dressed in a scholar's robe.  
  
As the residing lord of one of the largest city in Ivalice, he had quite enough wealth to surround himself with the exotic and beautiful. Rich red tapestries adorned the walls, and suits of armor stood guard at the oaken double doors. He sat at his cedar desk decorated by diamond-encrusted nick-knacks with his back to a pair of huge windows overlooking the town of Igros.  
  
"So, you have decoded the message?" the noble inquired in great earnest.  
  
"Yes, we have," returned the old man. "It was written in an ancient language. Once we figured out the language, we found it was written in code, an incredibly complex one. However, with a dozen of the brightest minds in Igros working nonstop at it, we managed to decode it."  
  
"And your findings?" pressed Readon.  
  
"It is located in an obscure mountain cave at the very southeastern corner of Ivalice. That would be somewhere in the Imbron mountain range, though the specific mountain is not given.  
  
"Also, it is as you suspected. The medallion with the relief of an airship is required, as well as another one with a different relief carving."  
  
"We need to find them!"  
  
"Well, we poured through Dante's journals and appendixes, and it seems that HE possessed one!"  
  
"Dante had one?!" gasped Readon. "Impossible! We searched his entire flat, right after. no!!!"  
  
"Sir! Are you alright?!"  
  
Readon's face had turned a beat red. His fists were knotted tightly, and his knuckles were whitening.  
  
"We never searched the place until AFTER we had taken Jardin! The little brat must have it!" he seethed through clenched teeth. He smashed his fist into his expensive desk as he screamed for a servant. In a matter of seconds, the serving-man, a tall gangly fellow, burst into the room.  
  
"Y-yessir?" he stammered.  
  
"Make sure that the wanted posters for one, Jardin Dante have this statement added: 'Take from the body a small silver medallion and deliver it to Igros castle to collect your reward.' Then, have the new batch sent out immediately to every town in Ivalice."  
  
"Right away, sir."  
  
When Jardin awoke the next morning from his reverie, he could hear the hustle and bustle of his companions making breakfast. The salty scent of leftover roasted pork wafted gently into his nostrils.  
  
"Need I ask what's for breakfast?" he grinned wryly, opening an eye.  
  
"No, I don't think so," replied Romo, setting a plateful of sizzling meat before him. "Eat up. We have a long ride ahead of us."  
  
Immediately after breakfast, the five cleared their campsite of every footprint and bit of gristle before readying their chocobos and departing. With at least a good three dozens miles between themselves and any possible pursuers, their ride that day was much more relaxing and enjoyable. The sun shone brightly in a perfectly clear sky, and instead of barren, rocky hills, they were treated to lush forests and sprawling plains. Thus, it seemed only a few hours before they reached the village of Spirgon. It was a quiet little town surrounded by a wall of great spiked timbers. They passed by the intimidating wall, and the chocobo feet made a din on the cobblestone street. Jardin stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders, heaving a great sigh. Tonight, they would find an inn to spend the night, and tomorrow they would sneak into Tabreum. They would find the artifact specialist, a certain Alec Durengeo, and after that, Jardin could only guess.  
  
Hammer soon interrupted Jardin's train of thought. "Excuse me, sir, but will it be safe to stay here?"  
  
"Don't worry," responded Jardin. "I don't think that our posters could've come here by now. Still, be on your guard."  
  
The party rode through the streets, searching for a cheap hotel. Jardin found the houses here to be more entertaining for the passerby then those in Igros. Spirgon featured many different types of architecture, including the A-frame, a style Jardin had never before seen. Finally, the company halted in front of a run-down, old, green house with creaky shutters and chipped paint. A sign at the front of a weed covered walk probably once said, "Bed and Breakfast" but was so worn and faded that it now said "Be an eakfas". Jardin dismounted and walked to the door, knocking sharply three times. An old lady in a simply gray dress, bent over a wooden cane, opened the door and drawled out a quick, "What ya be wantin'?"  
  
"We need beds for five and stabling for five yellow chocobos, please," Jardin stated politely.  
  
"Yaa, we can do that," she said, eyeballing him and the others suspiciously before hobbling back in.  
  
The five were pleasantly surprised to find that they each had their own room. From the lobby, furnished with a few chairs, a matted throw rug, and the landlady's desk, they walked up a stairway to a balcony, where the doors to the rooms were located. Any positive feelings, however, were soon lost. Suffice it to say they did not receive deluxe accommodations. As Jardin turned the key in his locked door, he could hear the rats scurrying back into the shadows.  
  
Well, it could have been worse. The room featured a small bed, a dusty desk, a wardrobe, and a basin full of murky water. Near the bed, a cracked window with ratty lavender drapes was opened, letting in the fresh air. The plaster walls had huge cracks, some that spanned the entire height, and Jardin could spot eleven insects without looking. He flopped down on his bed and drew his dagger, running his thumb thoughtfully along the edge. Thoughts of grief, uncertainty, and fear flew through his mind before he finally fell into a trance-like sleep.  
  
That night it rained. Great drops of water smashed almost violently against the cracked windowpanes of the inn. A streak of lightning split the star-speckled field of the night sky, and a great clap of thunder followed moments later. Another rumble of thunder boomed in the distance, just in time to drown out Jardin's scream.  
  
Grasping his chest, Jardin heaved in the evening air like a dying man gasping for a last breath. Yes, it was the dream again. This time, he could remember snatches of it. Great soldiers- ten feet tall at least, wandering about the world raining down death and destruction. Their bronze armor glimmered in the setting sunlight, and their weapons gleamed, tainted with fresh gore. Blood. It was everywhere. The smell was overwhelming. Unarmed civilians, young and old, male and female, lay dead, their faces twisted into expressions of agony and despair. And the soldiers treaded on, amid the bloody carnage, against a setting sun.  
  
That was the beginning of the dream. The rest, perhaps, would be revealed in time.  
  
As the terror of the dream slowly faded into reality, Jardin became aware of voices below him. One he instantly recognized as the cantankerous old landlady, but the other was strange to him.  
  
"Ya, I have 'em housed upstairs. Funny customers altogether, an' no mistake!" slurred the aged woman.  
  
"And what of the one with brown hair, wearing a gray cloak over armor and carrying a long sword? What room is he in?" asked the stranger in a low and surly voice.  
  
"Now why'd you be wantin' to know that?"  
  
"I'm a friend of his. I was to meet him and his companions here. Perhaps he failed to mention me?"  
  
"He did, but as you know so much about him, you must a-tellin' the truth. He's in the leftmost room."  
  
Jardin could hear the heavy tread of boots striding up the stairway and towards his room. He quickly darted under his bed, sending a large pack of rats to flight. One bounded over his face, while another ran over his hand. From outside the room, the unmistakable rasp of a weapon being drawn sent a thrill of fear coursing through his heart.  
  
Suddenly, Jardin heard a soft pop in the lock, and the door opened slowly. Light streamed in through the entrance, throwing the long, broad shadow of a man across the wooden floor. He walked over to the bed, and then, finding it empty, threw open the wardrobe. Growling in anger, he walked back to the bed, and kneeling down, thrust an arm under, sweeping it back and forth. Jardin backed against the wall noiselessly, but the arm crawled steadily towards him. Desperately grabbing a rat, Jardin threw it at the intruder's arm. The enraged rodent buried its teeth into the flesh, gnawing hungrily. Screaming in pain, the man yanked his arm from under the bed and hurled the pest to the floor, stomping on it in rage.  
  
Jardin crept from under the bed and grabbed the apparent bounty hunter's arms, pushing him against the desk. A long, steel dagger fell from his grasp. Jardin twisted the arm into a certain position, and threw all his weight on top of it. An audible snap was heard, and Jardin quickly stuffed his cloak into the man's mouth, stifling a long and terrible scream. Then, yanking the other arm near the broken one, he reached over, tore one of the drapes from the window, and bound the stranger's hands. Jardin seized him by the shoulders and pushed him into the bed. Reaching under his pillow, he drew out his weapons, and pointed the tip of the dagger at his face.  
  
"I'll get to the point. You'd better tell me everything, or you can expect some unpleasant consequences." whispered Jardin vehemently, prodding him in the stomach with the weapon. The man wore no armor and the dagger was his only weapon, indicating that he was a thief of some sort. He was rather stocky, but seemed to be in good physical shape. A green cloak covered his face.  
  
The captive flinched in fear. "Alright," he groaned, his speech pained. "I'm a bounty hunter. I recently found a poster with your face on it. It had a 100,000 gil reward for the disposal of you and the retrieval of a medallion. I found a piece of info from one of my sources that you were seen heading for the border. Naturally, I rode here after you."  
  
"100,000 gil reward." Jardin shook his head in amazement. "That's a 90,000 gil difference from the former reward." He lifted the medallion from the inside of his shirt and stared at it. Then, hiding the silver disk back under his shirt, he shot his attention back to the thief.  
  
"Do you know of any others that planned to capture me tonight?"  
  
"Yeah, a gang of a dozen bounty hunters departed my city the same time as me, but since a single man travels faster then a group, I reached here first."  
  
A dozen!? This was not good. Jardin glanced nervously out his window, but there was no one to be seen. Girding his weapons, he knocked the thief unconscious with a quick blow from the butt of the dagger. As he sheathed the blade, he raced to Romo's room and kicked the door open. Romo sat up in surprise and fear, but then relaxed as he recognized his friend.  
  
"Romo, get ready! Now! We have a little time to escape yet!"  
  
"What?" asked Romo in utter consternation.  
  
"Just get ready!"  
  
As Romo yanked on his traveling clothes and armor, Jardin explained the situation.  
  
"What about the others?" inquired Romo as Jardin finished talking.  
  
"We'll hafta leave them. The bounty hunters won't harm them if we're not with them."  
  
The two friends then ran out of the inn to the stable, readying their chocobos with great speed. Then, they rode from the town toward the mountain to the north. In their great haste, however, they were unaware of the silhouette of another rider that followed at a cautious distance.  
  
Between the inky darkness and the oppressive atmosphere of fear, neither Jardin nor Romo could recall much of their journey up the mountain path, except the fact that after a few hours, the air became unbearably cold and snow became visible. By the time they reached the summit, the chocobos were treading through a foot of the stuff. Finally, Jardin spotted the sight that sent both relief and fear to his heart: a great rock cliff that spanned the entire summit of the mountain. The only way into Tabreum, save by climbing the cliff, was through a tunnel kept under guard. As the two neared the spot, Jardin jumped off his chocobo into the cover of a snow bank twenty yards away from the tunnel.  
  
Yes, it was guarded, but not so much as to crush hope. There were three archers on one end, and two knights, and a chemist on the other. Unfortunately, they all appeared to be quite experienced and battle hardened, unlike the three archers Jardin managed to defeat single handedly.  
  
After a few moments of mental planning, Jardin leaned over to Romo and whispered, "I think this'll work. We send our chocobos running away in plain sight of the guards. They'll send a few guards over to check it out, and that's when we run. If we can cross the little stream ahead of the tunnel, we've made it into Tabreum and we're safe."  
  
"That's it?" grinned Romo incredulously. "THAT'S the plan? I could come up with something better than that!"  
  
"You try thinking up something better in three minutes! But if you want to hold a strategy meeting then you might as well dig our graves and carve our tombstones while you're at it- there's no way we can survive in this cold for long."  
  
To this Romo concurred, and they began sneaking closer to the tunnel. After around ten minutes of crawling through the snow, they reached the final snow bank that provided cover. Their clothes were soaked, and their hair clung to their faces. Then, each grabbing a small stone, they drew their swords and hurled the projectiles at their chocobos' flanks. With a loud "WARK!!" The large birds ran off to the left of the tunnel. Looking up in surprise, and archer and knight followed the birds. Once they were a good distance away, Jardin and Romo sprinted from the bank and ran toward their freedom. Pushing the two archers into the snow and clearing the tunnel, Jardin scythed down the knight with a mighty blow, while Romo cut the chemist to the ground. Jardin looked over his shoulder, and all hope was lost. The archers had recovered, and were taking aim with their crossbows. Suddenly, seemingly out of no where, a rider, the shadow Jardin and Romo had failed to notice, charged toward the enemies, trampling one. It was Hammer! The monk leapt of his chocobo and broke the second archer's jaw with an incredible drop kick to the face. By now, Jardin and Romo had reached and forded the shallow stream into Tabreum. Picking himself up, Hammer ran with great speed towards his captain. But even as he neared the stream, the third archer who had run after the chocobo appeared in the dim torch light of the tunnel.  
  
"HURRY, HAMMER!!" screamed Jardin and Romo simultaneously.  
  
Hammer had finally reached the stream, but then suddenly collapsed into the water, an crossbow bolt embedded in his side. Clawing pathetically at the rocks of the stream, he looked up at Jardin, his pained face sending a clear message: "Run. Don't make me die in vain." His legs slowly stopped moving, and his body fell limp into the stream, dead.  
  
But Jardin and Romo obeyed, and ran from the border with incredible speed. As they ran, all the emotion and tension of the past few days exploded, and they sobbed long and hard. Finally, whether their grief was too great, or the stitches in their side became unbearable, or their legs simply could not carry them any farther, they collapsed to the ground. They found that the air was warmer, and the snow had almost totally receded. They had escaped Ivalice. 


	5. Alec Durengeo

CHAPTER 5: ALEC DURENGEO  
  
Jardin had never woken to a more miserable morning then the following day. His clothes were still slightly damp, and on top of that, they were frigid as well. His back was stiff, his fingers and toes numb, and his body riddled with small sticks, rocks, and leaves. Turning over, he glanced at Romo, who fared similarly. His entire face was blackened with dirt smudges and bruises, save a line below each of his eyes where his tears had washed the filth away. Giving his friend a gentle shove to the shoulder, he said with a gravelly voice, "Get up, Romo. Time to go."  
  
Romo stirred and groaned, running his hand across his forehead.  
  
"Oohhh, my head. How long will it take us to get down the mountain?"  
  
"I guess, at best, we could make it down in a good three or four hours. We seem to have put a lot of miles between us and the border last night."  
  
"The sooner we get away from this hellish place the better," Romo glowered. "Let's go."  
  
Picking themselves up and wincing at sore muscles, Jardin and Romo walked slowly down the barely visible path. They were thankful they had chocobos for the trip up, as the trail down was extremely steep. The mountain forests rushed past them, and soon the air was considerably warmer. After about an hour, the path became steeper yet, and Jardin and Romo couldn't help but run. Thus, only two hours had passed when they found themselves wandering into a large grass field.  
  
"Well, where do we go?" asked Romo.  
  
Jardin spun around twice in bewilderment. He had expected to find a road, not plains. As he rubbed his eyes for another look about, he realized that this was not a plain, but a huge plantation field.  
  
"Romo, I think we need a rest. This is an alfalfa field! There's probably a farm over those hills."  
  
They walked briskly over the fields. The soft soil proved to be much easier on their tired feet then the rocky mountain trail. Soon they had traversed the hills and, sure enough, a huge barn and mansion-like home lay around one hundred yards away. Over to the west was a large tobacco field, and to the east was a wheat field of similar size. They ran to the farmhouse, and Romo stepped up to the door, knocking softly.  
  
In a matter of moments, an attractive, slender, young woman with braided brown hair answered the knock. She wore a simple blue dress with an apron over it.  
  
"Hello-" began Romo.  
  
"Good lord! What happened to you two? Come inside at once!"  
  
They followed her into an enormous parlor, decorated charmingly but modestly with large widows complimented by red drapes, a leather couch, cedar coffee table, and three oak bookshelves filled with books. The woman led them to the couch where she motioned them to sit.  
  
"Could you get the owner of this house please?" asked Jardin as he reclined.  
  
"Oh, but I am the owner."  
  
Jardin immediately blushed in embarrassment. "Oh.errrrr. well, that is."  
  
The young woman laughed. " I know I appear to be a bit young, and that I'm dressed in simple clothes that aren't befitting of the size of the place, but I hate having people wait on me, and I despise the latest women's fashions. I am my uncle's heiress, and when he died, I received his plantation. I have workers who care for the plantation, and I keep things up in the house. My name is Isabelle."  
  
Jardin cracked an embarrassed smiled, and said, "Well, in that case, let me tell you our problem. We have come through battle and death seeking a certain Alec Durengeo. Do you know where he is?"  
  
"Alec. Alec. hmm. I can't say I know him, but Durengeo is a famous name. Their estate was in the middle of a desert not terribly far from here. The master of the estate was an archeologist," she said thoughtfully, stroking her chin. "I suppose I could take you there in my carriage." "Really, we couldn't trouble you-"  
  
"No, I'd be happy to take you. I have nothing else to do today," she retorted, then added with a giggle, "provided you bathe."  
  
She first led Romo upstairs to a tub, showing him where to draw the water, and after she made sure he was comfortable, she did the same with Jardin. In her bathrooms she kept a white cauldron full of water, which was reboiled twice a day. Besides that and the tub, however, there was little else in the room. The entire chamber was white- it was painted white, the floor was tiled with white tiles, and the cauldron and tub were white. It seemed that Jardin and Romo had come at just the right time, when the water had cooled to a perfect temperature after the reheating. As Jardin sank his aching body into the steaming water, he breathed a long sigh of relief. He didn't know why this lady was treating perfect strangers so kindly, but she very well may have saved their lives.  
  
After the two-hour bath, he walked over to find his next surprise- clean clothes and polished armor and weapons. She must have cleaned them and slipped them in quietly, and since the wall jutted out between the tub and bathroom entrance, leaving only a door-sized entryway to the tub, he couldn't have seen her.  
  
Until now, Jardin had taken for granted the glorious feeling of putting on a clean shirt, or the simple beauty of a well polished, dependable piece of armor. The pinnacle of the moment, however, came when he drew Excalibur. What a beautiful weapon it was! The blade appeared to be fashioned out of flawless crystal, but Jardin knew that it was made of a substance much harder. The blade traveled a full three feet before meeting the gold plated hilt, which was speckled with various gems. A strip of black leather had been wound around the hilt to prevent it from slipping from grip. Jardin marveled at the light weight and razor edge a moment before sheathing and girding it.  
  
As Jardin strapped the various plates and ring mail of his armor onto his torso, he heard a soft knock on the door.  
  
"Come in," said Jardin cheerfully.  
  
Isabelle walked in and said with a smile, "Ahh, good. You're done too. Well, if you want, we can start for the Durengeo estate now." With that, she turned and walked to the door.  
  
"Wait a minute," shot Jardin quickly. "I hope you won't find this rude, but why are you help us, two complete strangers?"  
  
Isabelle turned slowly around, and looked him straight in the eye. "When I was a young girl," she began, "I was not in the state of luxury that I'm in now. I was the daughter of a homeless widower, and every day we'd go out to beg in the streets. When I was twelve, my father died. If it weren't for my "Uncle", a rich plantation owner who found me and brought me in, I would have starved. So, I've decided to pass on the favor to those who need refuge."  
  
She then turned, as if once again seized with grief by her childhood tragedies, and left.  
  
After a quick lunch of bread and soup, Jardin and Romo met Isabelle at the front door. A chocobo drawn carriage was ready and waiting. The brick red carriage was quite large, and looked very comfortable. Jardin, Romo, and Isabelle climbed in, and the drive gave a shake of the reigns, causing the chocobos to start a light gallop.  
  
The inside of the carriage consisted of two cushioned benches two yards in length. Two sizable windows on each side kept the interior well lit, and a few small cuts in the wood kept it ventilated. Jardin and Romo sat down on the right bench, while Isabelle sat across from them on the left.  
  
"It will be a few hours before we reach Durengeo manor. I suggest you sleep," said Isabelle, before she followed her own advice and reclined on her bench, turning toward the wall of the carriage.  
  
Romo followed suit, but Jardin found the constant bumps and jolts of the carriage to be to much of a disturbance, and instead watched the scenery. That proved to be rather boring as well- there was nothing to see except a few green hills and pine trees. Slowly, however the trees became fewer and fewer, and the grass receded into rough, rock-filled terrain. Sand soon appeared, gradually swallowing the rocks with it's golden waves. Finally, the carriage stopped.  
  
The three hobbled out, and Isabelle drew a shocked gasp. The blackened frame of a large house stood, and in it's center was a small shack.  
  
"What happened here?" wondered Isabelle. "Do you want to go back?"  
  
"No," answered Jardin resolutely. "You go on back, we'll be fine here."  
  
Isabelle seemed reluctant to leave them at first, but finally she got in her carriage and drove off into the horizon.  
  
Jardin walked toward the shack, when abruptly he became aware of something pulling at his leg. At the same time, a loud clanging of metal was heard. Looking at his leg, he found a near invisible wire of about one hundred yards in length, held taut by a stake at each end. One end of the wire lead into the shack, where the noise was coming from. Jardin stepped over the wire and walked closer, when suddenly, a grim voice stopped him.  
  
"Stay right there, you @#$#%! I've got a pair of clackers aimed at your heads, and unless having your brain matter splattered on desert rocks is your idea of fun, I suggest you do what I say."  
  
Jardin and Romo both gave a start, but did as they were commanded.  
  
"Ummm." shouted Jardin, perplexed. "We're looking for Alec Durengeo. We want him to take a look at an artifact we have."  
  
The shack door suddenly burst open, and a young man, pointing a pair of strange bronze objects at them, walked out cautiously. He looked to be about eighteen or nineteen, with blue eyes and light brown hair combed backwards except for two large tufts which fell across either side of his face, and was dressed in a simple black shirt and dusty brown pants. He wore a pair of mythril greaves from the knees down, and over everything was a brown leather trench coat, which hung open. Jardin thought he could see signs of some light armor under the shirt, but he was not sure.  
  
The young man eyed them up and down suspiciously. "Hmmm, your Ivalicians, or I'm a moogle!" he said, grinning. "Sorry for the hostile welcome, but I've been having trouble with most visitors lately. I'm Alec Durengeo, and you are?"  
  
"YOU'RE Alec Durengeo? The artifact specialist?" gaped Jardin incredulously.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Who else would I be?"  
  
"B-but. You're younger then me! I was expecting a patriarchal old scholar! "  
  
"Well," Alec responded, drawling slowly for effect. "A wise man once said, 'Looks may belay the man'. If you want, I could tell you all about your weapons and armor as well. Wanna know how I knew you came from Ivalice? Your armor- the way the metal is hammered just so- unmistakable work of the great Ivalician blacksmith Hugurd Rempall. But since now, in his old age, he only makes occasional armor for high ranking Ivalice soldiers, and that armor doesn't look all that old."  
  
Jardin stared in dumbfounded amazement. At the most, this kid couldn't have been a day over twenty, and yet he knew more about armor then he could hope to learn in thirty years.  
  
Alec read his amazement and grinned, saying, "Some say I'm a prodigy- after all, I am only eighteen- and who am I to deny it? But when you have all the literature you'd ever need to instruct you, and all the time in the world, you catch on pretty fast. Here, why don't we go in and get out of the heat?"  
  
The three walked over to the shack and entered. Once again, this proved to be a justified reason for another case of stupefaction. Inside the large shack were the most unusual odds and ends Jardin had ever seen. On various wooden tables were mechanical balls, large cylinders with tubes protruding from the ends, and others he couldn't even begin to describe. There were also many objects similar to the ones that he had brandished at them. This flared Jardin's curiosity.  
  
"Uhh, Alec?" he ventured. "What are these things over here, the things like those that you're carrying?"  
  
"Oh, these?" he said, picking one up. "These are ancient weapons called 'guns'. They shoot a projectile called a bullet out of this tube called the barrel. These that I'm carrying now I call 'clackers' because of the unusual sound they make when they chamber another round. Oh yeah! And these two that I'm carrying are ultra-rare handguns. See this large cylinder? This is the chamber, which hold the bullets. These special chambers hold a whopping fifty bullets each, because they're FULLY AUTOMATIC HANDGUNS!"  
  
Jardin and Romo stared blank faced at his enthusiasm. Alec groaned.  
  
"You don't get how amazing an automatic handgun is. Do you know how hard it would be to make a handgun chamber hold fifty bullets? Anyway, see this little thing right here- that's the trigger. It makes the gun go boom. With most guns, you shoot it, then have to chamber the next round manually, usually by pulling back the hammer. Some- known as semi-automatic- chamber it automatically, but you have to lift your finger off the trigger before you can fire again. With these, you can blast everything around you like nobody's business, without even lifting a finger!" Alec apparently found his last statement hysterically funny, and burst out laughing. Jardin and Romo just didn't get it.  
  
Once Alec recovered with a snort, he continued. "Anyway, ever heard of materia?"  
  
Jardin shook his head, but Romo's eyes lit up. "Materia!" he exclaimed. "I just read about some guy who found a materia during a job, and walked away with tons of gil after selling it!"  
  
"Yeah, that must've been a Huge Materia," returned Alec, "but normal materia is quite common in my excavations. It's basically manufactured magic that the ancient civilizations used to make. No one knows how to use it, so the small stuff is pretty much worthless. But I figured a way out."  
  
"How?" queried Jardin and Romo simultaneously.  
  
Alec whipped off his trench coat, and strapped to his back was a long gun. "This is called a rifle," he explained. "And materia fits in this particular one's chamber perfectly. I fire it, and not only does it do normal projectile damage, but it also unleashes one of it's contain spells. So a lightning materia would do either Bolt, Bolt2, or Bolt3, respectively. I call it Materia Shot."  
  
"You said something about an excavation before," said Jardin. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I'm an archeologist by trade. Ever weekend my cousin's men come over and we excavate my dig out in back. My cousin has about twelve digs under his command, and I supervise this one. We have a huge claim. Wanna see the last thing we dug up?"  
  
He led them to the center of the shack, where propped up on a stand was a broad mass of bronze colored metal reminiscent of the human figure. On it's large torso was set a half circle head with bulbs for eyes.  
  
"This is a robot, a mobile machine with artificial intelligence to serve its owner. This seems to be a military robot. Oh, here's something interesting. See how this robot is seems to be made of bronze? He's not, but you see, the ancient civilizations developed a chemical that, when applied, would keep these things in perfect condition even after years of dormancy. But the chemical stains the metal to that particular shade. Anyway, lessee if we can get her running, eh?  
  
He opened a hatch in the robot's head, which he said held the power source, and reached for a mass of materia orbs glued together. Placing the materia delicately in the head, he closed the hatch. Then, turning the eye bulbs to the right, he stepped back and watched anxiously.  
  
At first, nothing happened, but presently, something inside the thing began to whir, and so the eyes flashed green. The robot stood upright, booming in a deep voice, "Robot Z-83 online! What is your order?"  
  
Alec grinned slyly, but suddenly the eyes started flashing red. "WARNING! WARNING! Power source disrupting! Systems failing!" it blared, arms flailing up and down frantically. Alec's grin had turned into a look of frustrated rage.  
  
The robot began booming out various phrases imbedded into its memory, and its deep voice went through dramatic changes. First it went down several octaves, the up several. It screamed, "DANGER! DANGER, WILL ROBIN-" before Alec interrupted it by connecting a hammer to it's head. The eyes clicked to the left and the robot bent over, powerless.  
  
"Yeah, ya $%#%@!! See what happens when you $%@^%# with me?!" hollered Alec crazily.  
  
Jardin stepped back a pace with a start. Both Romo and Jardin stared at Alec, slack-jawed.  
  
"Wow!" said Jardin. "The last time I heard that word was when I interrogated the Limberry serial killer!"  
  
Alec blushed, but replied defensively, "Yeah, well I have a quick temper. So what?"  
  
That just didn't register with Jardin. "You have the patience to excavate ruins with a toothbrush, but you go ballistic when an ancient machine doesn't work?"  
  
"Hey, what's with the third degree?" snapped Alec. "I'm just mad cuz' I wasted all that good materia. Anyway, what are you here for again?"  
  
"We need you to take a look at an artifact for us. We have money to pay you," said Romo.  
  
"Hold it!" burst out Alec, raising his hands. "What makes you think I need money, huh? We're surrounded by the fruits of forty years of labor in our dig! If I were to sell all this stuff, I don't doubt that I could pay off the Tabreum national debt! I don't need your money. But I do have my price."  
  
"What?" asked Jardin, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Those @%#%$ claim jumpers! They've recently discovered the enormous profit of our dig, and they've been raiding my dig! You look like combat oriented folks. Why don't you help me out, and then I'll see what I can do for you."  
  
Jardin ran his hand across his forehead, closing his eyes. Visions of blood washed fields, gore stained swords, and mutilated bodies passed before his eyes. "Ugh.More fighting?" he groaned, clenching his teeth.  
  
"Wait a minute, stupid," said one voice in his head, "What are you going on about? 'More fighting'? Yeah, if you're gonna beat Readon and set things to rights, you're gonna have to do a heck of a lot more fighting!"  
  
"No!" urged another voice. "Haven't enough died? Do you want to turn more of your friends into Hammers? You want to be a martyr? Find a place to settle down! Maybe become an archeologist and help out Alec!"  
  
"If you don't do something, the evil of the Convocation will overwhelm the world!"  
  
"Run away, Jardin! You're not hero material!"  
  
"Fight, Jardin! You're the only one who can help!"  
  
Jardin opened his eyes. Run away? No, that wasn't his nature.  
  
"Alright, Alec. We'll do it." He concurred quietly.  
  
"Haha! Alright!" Alec laughed, slapping Jardin's shoulder. "Tomorrow we go into battle!"  
  
The following night, Jardin found himself sitting on a lump of cold earth, his chin resting on his fists. Surrounding him was "the dig"- an enormously deep hole around 1,000 by 500 yards in size. A few hours before in the daylight, Jardin had gazed into the cavernous depths, noting the various parts of broken machinery scattered at random amid the grainy earth. Several tunnels and fissures had been cut into the walls, which Jardin guessed led into underground caves. Now, as the last rays of the setting sun fell across the desert, shadows enveloped the chasm in darkness, and Alec had lit torches strategically placed so that, should their enemies happen to show up, they would not be surprised.  
  
Jardin stood up off his earthen seat and walked to the excavation. Oddly enough, the big ol' hole (as Romo put it) intrigued him. Staring into it for the umpteenth time, he saw several objects lying on the excavation floor and imbedded in the walls shimmering faintly. Romo had told him that that was materia reflecting the torchlight a few moments ago.  
  
Tearing his gaze away from the shining things, he glanced over his shoulder back at his companions. Romo was checking his equipment very carefully, inspecting the crossbow drawstring with utmost precision. Shaking his head bluntly, he produced a small vial of oil from his pocket and saturated the string with a few drops. Alec was pacing back and forth nervously, occasionally drawing a gun and holding it straight out, taking aim at unseen apparitions. Finally, he collapsed to the ground abruptly, and, stretching his legs out in front of him, he leaned backwards and sighed.  
  
Jardin refastened his small silver brooch so that his cloak covered his torso instead of hanging behind him. As he had learned last night, the desert could get very, very cold. He wished that these claim jumpers would come quickly so they could be done with this.  
  
A jangle from one of Alec's clever alarms he'd rigged up the day before broke the grim silence that had shrouded the threesome. Alec's head shot up in alertness. "If I'm not quite mistaken, that would be them," he said somberly, turning to Jardin. And sure enough, several dark silhouettes appeared in the torchlight. The three hid behind the various boulders that speckled the desert sand. As the enemy drew near, Jardin was able to observe them. There were ten of them, all male- two armed with longbows, two armed with small guns, and four armed with short swords. They wore sand colored clothing, providing them a camouflage of sorts, and on their arms they bore a black wool band with a peculiar symbol stitched in the material. Jardin observed them the best he could without revealing his presence, peeking over his shoulder and above the dusty boulder turned hiding place. The crooks had found the long ropes used to scale the daunting height of the excavation and were carefully repelling down the wall face.  
  
With the corner of his eye, Jardin caught Alec waving him a signal of advancement. It made sense. The enemy was vulnerable and unable to counter the attacks. After taking into accounts the darkness and difficult angles of the enemy position, Jardin judged that, at best, they could eliminate half the enemy before they could get close enough to attack.  
  
Slowly, the threesome crept forward, weapons in hand. They reached the edge of the chasm, and, peering below, found their adversaries were three-fourths of the way down. Alec aimed and fired a few rounds from his left pistol, the reports ringing into the clear desert air. Cursing at the misses, Alec holstered the gun and whipped out his rifle. He opened a leather pouch at his belt and withdrew a materia, quickly inspecting it. "Hehe, it's a "contain". This should be interesting," he snickered wickedly. Loading and firing it, the three watched in awe as the green wind of Tornado lashed six of the claim jumpers violently against the wall, knocking three to the ground. These Romo, who had been firing a few ill- aimed bolts, finished efficiently with his crossbow.  
  
Meanwhile Jardin, finding he wasn't close enough to hit any with his sword arts, climbed down to ledges in the dig wall. By this time, most of the enemies were making good progress in climbing back up, especially the six that had been out of Tornado's range. One of the stronger ones, a samurai wielding a short sword, had reached Jardin's ledge and attacked from the back. Careening from the blow, he stumbled toward the edge, lost his balance, and tumble down into the chasm. Thinking quickly, Jardin shot his arm out and managed to grab a small outcropping. The samurai chuckled evilly, grabbing a sizable rock and hurling it at the former captain's head. Jardin twisted his head to the left only just in time, and the rock bounced off his armored shoulder, doing minimal damage. With his left hand hanging to the wall, and his right still locked with a death grip on to Excalibur, Jardin was in no position to attack, and yet it would be the death of him not to. Carefully, he slid his feet between his body and the cliff, then he stretched his legs out, putting a good distance between himself and the sandy wall. With this added space, he was able to swing his sword toward the samurai. The icy blue arch of Shellbust Stab shot up from under the claim jumper's feet, knocking him against the cliff from the force. As he recovered from the blast, he watched in horror as his corselet of ring mail burst from his chest into a thousand pieces (an unfortunate side effect that survivors of Shellbust Stab face). Turning his head, he looked just in time to see on of Romo's bolts heading straight for his chest; just as the bolt struck home, several rounds from Alec's pistols riddled his torso and neck, sending an unpleasant amount of blood raining down on Jardin's head. The samurai fell over, dead as a doornail.  
  
As all this went on above, poor Jardin was still hanging on for dear life, when he noticed something moving to the left. Peering through the darkness, he realized it was one of the ropes, swaying back and forth as one of the pistol bearers struggled to climb up. Jardin braced himself, sheathed the Holy Sword, and jumped for it. He caught it firmly with both hands, and drawing his sword, he cut the rope just below his grasp, grinning as he heard the yell and inevitable thud of the enemy below.  
  
Finally, two knights had reached the top, and one went running toward Romo. Just as Romo had put away his crossbow and had drawn his sword, the knight attacked. Romo partially parried the blow, but the tip of his enemy's sword managed to break free and stab into his ring mail- the armor saved him, but a few rings broke and were driven through his shirt into his flesh. Roaring in pain, Romo delivered a flurry of attack born out of pure rage. The knight found the powerful blows hard to block or counter, and soon screamed a last scream as Romo's blade plunged through his throat.  
  
The other knight had run toward Alec. Aiming both pistols at his assailant, he began firing them consecutively; the knight, however, had a well-crafted shield, and managed to deflect most of the bullets, though he did take a direct hit in the left leg, as well as nicks in the lower neck and right arm. Alec was swearing like a sailor by now, cursing his gun for not firing more powerful shots and himself for choosing rapid fire over raw power. The knight had finally limped toward him, and thrust his sword toward Alec viciously. However, the attack had not been aimed at the archeologist but at his left pistol, and the weapon went flying from his grasp, the barrel breaking off as it hit the ground. "Oh, man! You're in a world of crap, you #%$@ piece of *&^#$!" the gunfighter yelled, ramming his knee into the fighter's groin. The knight, given a very painful reminder of his manhood, doubled over. "Do you know how rare those things are?" Alec added, slamming his remaining handgun into the man's jaw. The knight fell over, and Alec kicked him sharply in the thigh, but elicited no response. The soldier was out cold.  
  
Jardin was climbing up the rope with incredible speed, reaching the summit of the chasm in a mere five minutes. He noticed that the last three had reached the top as well, and, finding their companions dead or otherwise incapacitated, ran off into the desert like madmen. He found Romo stripping off his shirt and armor and fingering a nasty gouge below his ribs. Alec was standing near him, shouting various threats and oaths at the surviving crooks, as well as firing his handgun at them, primarily aiming for the buttocks. Then he sighed, saying, "That one right there, he broke my other gun. The filthy $%#@!!"  
  
Jardin and Romo really couldn't sympathize with him, being grateful for just being alive. Alec stripped all the accessible dead of all weapons, armor, and bags of interest before the three went back to the shack, bearing the still unconscious knight.  
  
Back at the shack, Jardin was faced with the problem of what to do with the knight. At a loss, he asked Alec. "Oh, him?" Alec replied. "Just lock him up in the cellar."  
  
"Cellar? Yeah, that's actually pretty funny!" Jardin chuckled.  
  
"No, what's funny is that you think I actually live in this shack! Ok, remember the blackened frame that surrounds this shack? That was my family's mansion, but a while ago it burned to the ground. Not to worry, though! The house also had two basements that came out unscathed, so I live down there and store everything in this shack. Go lift up that board to your left to find the staircase."  
  
Jardin did so, and Alec helped him drag the soldier down the stairs. Jardin found himself in a long hallway, carpeted red, full of doors, with another staircase at the end. Through one of the doors on the left they went, and entered into a cool cellar void of wine. "All my wine's in the cellar of the second basement," commented Alec as they dumped the knight in a heap and, exiting the chilly room, locked the door. They returned to the shack where Romo was tinkering with some ancient crossbow, admiring it. "Now it's time to relax, and then I'll look at you're artifact," quipped Alec as he plopped into a dusty rocking chair.  
  
As he reclined in his chair, Alec rummaged through the spoils won from the battle. Most of it was mediocre weapons and armor that had a decent resale value. All the bags and pouches contained items pillaged from other digs. Suddenly, he whooped as he drew out a large, beautiful crystal as big as a man's head.  
  
"This is perfect!" he cried. "I see now! The glued materia wouldn't function properly, because the energy can only run through the crystal. The glue was disrupting the power!"  
  
He ran to the robot, throwing the crystal into his head and clicking the eyes over. The robot suddenly came to life, booming with a familiar voice "Z-83 online! What is your command?" Alec waited a moment, and when the robot remained standing, he let out a cheer. "See, this robot runs on Huge Materia, rare materia that is valued in modern society because of its beauty. This is great!" he triumphed joyously.  
  
Jardin was glad Alec had got his robot to function, but time was of the essence. "Alec," he insisted, "I really need you to look at my medallion."  
  
Alec was slightly annoyed, as he wanted to spend the day inspecting the robot, but then shrugged and said, "Fine, bringgit here."  
  
Jardin tossed him the silver medallion, and Alec caught it, collapsing into a chair by his desk. He pulled out a magnifying lens and examined it closely. "No way." he muttered. Jardin and Romo stared at him eagerly. Alec jumped up from his desk, running to his bookshelf and pulling out a dusty green book. He flipped through the yellowed pages full of scribbley text and illustrations. Finally, he stopped and looked from the book, to the medallion, and back to the book. Then he shot a piercing glance up at Jardin and Romo. He enunciated his words exactly, speaking slowly and clearly as he said, " This medallion is the key to military invincibility." 


	6. The Hunt for the Magitek Silver

CHAPTER 6: THE HUNT FOR THE MAGITEK SILVER  
  
Jardin stumbled backwards, leaning on a desk for support. No wonder Readon wanted this thing. He looked over at Romo; he seemed quite surprised as well, though he had managed to compose himself better. Finally, he stood up straight and sputtered, "You mean, that thing can be used as a weapon?"  
  
Romo cracked a grin, as he explained, "No, no, no! This is literally a key!  
  
"Ok, kiddies, it's time for your history lesson. You remember hearing about General Zanzira, right? Well, he was the general of the old Empire's army during the time when airships and robot and all sorts of nifty things were everywhere. Now, civil war was splitting the Empire in two- the Imperials were fighting against a huge group of upstarts. So this Zanzira- he begins slowly bringing a large portion of their war machines and hiding them in a huge cave in an obscure mountain near their enemy's HQ location. He went so far as to include the crown jewels of the Empire- the twin war airships Emeralda and Rubelia. All he had to do was say the word, and his men would use these war machines and obliterate the rebels. This cave was sealed by magic, and only when two certain medallions were place inside the wall would it open. Now, it would have of course been tragic had these medallions fallen into the wrong hands, so Zanzira hid them in the last place enemies would look for them- two different temples (for it was a well- known fact that Zanzira was an atheist). Once he received the word, his messengers would collect the medallions and boom! No more rebels. However, the war ended before this tactic could be incorporated, and only a month or so afterwards, St. Ajora's miracle wiped out the Empire for good. We've managed to learn this from Zanzira's journal, which was found in a dig several years ago."  
  
"What sort of war machines were there?" asked Romo curiously.  
  
"Well, there were those airships- those were the major attractions- and a whole infantry of Magitek armor- for lack of a better description, they were half armor, half robot. The pilot would stand inside and control the thing. Also, there were a few robots and some relics. They were accessories that gave the equipee great physical and mental boosts. That's all that was recorded, but as you can see, with this technology no one could stand before the army that used it."  
  
Jardin was getting scared now. "So this medallion I have has been excavated by someone else?"  
  
"Obviously."  
  
Jardin began pacing nervously, running his fingers through his hair. "Alec, we need to talk," he said.  
  
Jardin then proceeded to tell Alec his story. By the time he had finished, the archeologist was shaking his head in bewilderment. "Lemme get this straight- your step brother is a Greyhelm? He gaped. "And he and his little clique of nobles are trying to find this armory? Oh, this is bad! This is bad!"  
  
"It's bad?" answered Jardin. "Now that's an understatement. But what can I do? Even if I do secure both medallions and find the mountain, what could I do?"  
  
"Well, first you need to ally yourself with an organization of some kind; it's obvious you can't do anything by yourself. You need manpower and money power- after all, if I may use a little saying I invented, nil gil means no go."  
  
"And what happens when we find this lost armory?"  
  
"Use it to pulverize the Convocation, and then destroy it!"  
  
"Destroy it?" scoffed Romo. "Why destroy it?"  
  
"Don't be a fool," snapped Alec sharply. "I've seen what this kind of power does to people. It twists their minds and their hearts. A man, thinking to use this absolute power for good, would find himself slowly slipping into depravity.  
  
"Anyway, focus on the task at hand, I say. Our first job is to-"  
  
"Wait a second!" interrupted Jardin. "You're coming with?"  
  
"Of course I am!" laughed Alec. "You didn't think I'd pass up looking for the greatest archeological find in history, did you?  
  
"Anyway, as I was saying, the first thing we need to do is find the second silver medallion. Tonight I'll look through all the information I have about the ancient temples, compare them to the journal, and then we'll check it out. Hopefully it's already excavated."  
  
"How do you know it's still standing?" queried Romo.  
  
"Unless I'm quite mistaken, all the temples were built to last just about anything. I expect it'll be buried from the Ajora disaster, but it'll be in good enough condition, considering."  
  
"But what about you, Alec?" asked Jardin, concerned. "You can't just pick up and go. Those thieves might return, and you can't leave that knight locked in the cellar!"  
  
In response, Alec turned to the robot. "Z-83, are you equipped with sensors?"  
  
"Yes," replied Z-83. "I've also been outfitted with advanced scanners that can read the heart rate and brain waves of all life form in a fifty mile radius, to determine whether they have friendly or hostile intentions."  
  
"Alright, good," grinned Alec. "Then keep those scanners on, and if you pick up any hostile life forms, go outside and kick their arse!"  
  
"Can not compute 'arse'."  
  
Alec groaned. "Kill them, ok?"  
  
"Understood."  
  
"Also, a man will stop by next Friday. He's my cousin. I want you to give him the man downstairs- he'll know what to do- and tell him this, 'I have gone on an excavation trip with some friends. Date of return unknown.'  
  
"Heh, that old codger will be so thrilled your running that he won't even miss me. In fact, the way he was fawning over you when we dug you up, I'll be surprised if he doesn't adopt you, or marry you, even." Alec laughed.  
  
"Understood."  
  
That night, Jardin lay awake, thinking of the events that had transpired. Alec had found a temple some fifty miles west of the desert that he was almost certain about. He said it fell under the property of McGregor's excavation. Tomorrow they embarked on Alec's chocobos. Jardin laughed as he recalled finding a stable in the bottom basement, the chocobos trotting back and forth nervously in the lamplight. For the fifteenth time that night, he drew out the medallion on his neck, tracing the lines of the airship relief with his finger. Who knew such a small thing could unlock such terrible power. Finally, as his weariness overcame him, he drifted off into a reposed sleep.  
  
"What do you mean, it's not accessible?!" shouted Alec at a dust spangled employee.  
  
"Are you retarded, or do you just have a problem with comprehension?" shot back the worker contentiously. "The temple AIN'T ACCESSIBLE! It's not fully excavated yet."  
  
Alec stood angrily before one of the workers at McGregor's dig, running his hand over the ivory handled revolver chosen to replace the broken gun. It required the sharpshooter to pull back a hammer after every round, but packed a huge punch. Alec was actually thinking of trying it out on the worker. He was in a bad mood. The two-day trip had been one of those events where nothing went right, and everything within imagination went wrong. A chocobo got sick, they took the wrong road and had to backtrack twenty miles, they ran out of food, and a scorpion had stung Alec in the hand. Finally they reached McGregor's place. Apparently, he and Alec's cousin were good friends, and McGregor was very hospitable, inviting them into his sizable Victorian house. But when he had to leave for the day, Alec began annoying the workers to no end, asking them when the temple would be fully excavated. Occasionally he would stop a worker twice his age, saying, "What kind of archeology is that? Let me show you how to do it right," or "Why are you slacking off? Can't you see me and my friends have things to do!?" Finally, with nothing else to do, the three went into the house to find some form of entertainment until the temple was accessible.  
  
Jerald Durengeo swung smartly off his chocobo and walked the door of the shack. He wore the traditional coveralls that he always donned for work, and his brick red hair had been turned almost to blonde from the dust. He briskly tapped on the door with his hand, and, receiving no reply, knocked more forcefully. Finally, he swung the door open with an oath and told the twenty workers behind him to follow.  
  
His scowl soon disappeared as he saw Z-83 rummaging about the shack and organizing the excavated goods. Turning his head, the robot spotted the senior archeologist and walked toward him. "Are you Alec's cousin, Jerald Durengeo?" he asked in his deep synthesized voice.  
  
Jerald was so pleased he could barely speak. "Oh man, this is great! Uhhh, yeah that's me!"  
  
"Alec commanded me to give you the following message: 'I have gone on an excavation trip with some friends. Date of return unknown. Heh, that old codger will be so thrilled you're running that he won't even miss me. In fact, the way he was fawning over you when we dug you up, I'll be surprised if he doesn't adopt you, or marry you, even!'" The robot let out a hearty laugh in imitation of Alec.  
  
The hardy workers immediately cracked up. Jerald's face turned a bright red, and he muttered between curses, "Oh, that kid is dead when he gets back!"  
  
For two weeks did Jardin and Company lounge with nothing to do, until finally Alec received the news from an employee, who frankly was just about as ready to beat the daylights out of him as give him messages, that the temple was mostly excavated. Alec thanked the worker and collected Jardin and Romo with an excited, "It's ready! Get your gear and what ever else you need!"  
  
The trio briskly walked to the excavation, and sure enough, a huge temple, for the most part still intact save that part of the western ceiling was vacant, loomed inside. The white walls, very reminiscent of marble, were marred by the sandy earth, and yet still were a clear contrast with its surroundings. Even after all these ages it projected a Spartan air, a war-like aura that even the jaded Jardin found hard to shrug off. Alec motioned the others toward a rope ladder and began decent, his eyes fixated on the imposing pillars and enormous doors riddled with holes.  
  
The three approached the temple. Jardin secretly wished they could wait until they afternoon, for it was only the early morning and the sun was hidden with a veil of clouds. Alec ran his hands across the stately doors, partially in awe, partially out of respect for the architectural achievement. Then he slipped in through a large crack, soon followed by his comrades.  
  
As Jardin walked into the cavernous room, he felt like he was stepping back through the centuries into a time when airships filled the skies. He spun around, trying to take the dimly lit chamber in all at once. Everything, of course, was in disarray. The floor was now covered with a foot of sand, and a thin dust still wafted in the air. Sunlight from the holes in the roof merged with the dust, giving the temple a bluish tint. Over in the corner, an alter lay on its side in ruin. Relief carvings depicted scenes of battle and violence, graphic enough to make even Jardin flinch. This was obviously a very war-oriented religion. As if in answer to Jardin's personal observations, Alec commented, "The religion promoted by the Empire was polytheistic. This was a temple to the god of war."  
  
Romo's head seemed liable to make 360 degree spin. "This is incredible! To think that this survived the Ajora miracle! Our buildings certainly wouldn't stand against a flood of such catastrophic proportions!"  
  
"No kidding, though this area bore less of the brunt then the rest of the Empire," Alec agreed, his voice revealing a simple respect for such achievements. "Look at the explicit detail in those carvings! The faces- those expressions of anger, hate, anguish! Look at that one of the soldier being disemboweled- not pretty, I know- but those organs are artfully carved. Since these are reliefs, the three dimensions make it look almost real! His facial expressions make me pity him greatly."  
  
They walked out of the room into a long hallway, still treading through the sand. Carvings were also present on the walls, even gorier then the chamber behind them. "Things get more and more death related as you move into holier sections of the temple," explained Alec morbidly. "Be careful, because in the holiest chamber we will actually run the risk of booby traps. What the ancient priests did was they'd take the sacrifice, usually an animal, but sometimes criminals plucked from the castle dungeons, and lock him in the holiest place. They would leave him there until he triggered a trap and died. I expect that Zanzira hid the medallion in there, so traps would protect it."  
  
They passed through the hall, and Alec motioned them to stop. "This is the Grand Divine- the holiest chamber, and since this place didn't get hit that hard, most of the traps should function. Watch your step; walk toward the sides but DO NOT touch the walls."  
  
They walked into the ancient sacred place. The chamber was circular, the stone walls parading a relief of an enormous battle. Jardin spotted the altar at the opposite end, a hollow cylinder covered by a grate. It sat on a raised area accessible by an incline. They began walking cautiously to the opposite end. Once, Romo felt a stone under the sand depress beneath his weight, and a stone fell out of the wall, revealing a metal tube. He jumped out of the way just in time as flames spewed out of the wall from the tube. A few moments later, Jardin accidentally brushed his hand too near the wall, when suddenly a large metal spike shot out millimeters from his nose.  
  
They reached the altar successfully, and peered inside it. "Drat! I thought it would be in the altar for sure!" griped Alec, snapping his fingers in frustration. The three then began digging through the sand discreetly, watching out for odd stones or other suspicious signs. As they searched, nevertheless, they did cause a large stone cube to nearly crush them, a vat of harmless oil which was obviously kept boiling in the old days to shower them, and the traditional arrows from the wall to shoot toward them. Finally, after a quick brainstorm, Alec overturned the altar and pushed it down the incline toward the opposite end of the chamber. Sure enough, half way across the room a section of the floor buckled and gave way as the altar rolled past it. The company walked down the center where the altar had rolled fearing no traps for the stone had sprung them all. A shaft of light projecting through the ceiling illuminated the dark cavity slightly, and the three peered in hopefully. The hole fell fifteen feet into a bed of spikes, and perched between the two central spikes was the second medallion.  
  
"How will we get to it?" wondered Romo aloud.  
  
"Ehhh. maybe a human chain?" ventured Jardin, wincing at the unpleasant thought.  
  
"No way, it's too risky!" shot back Alec. "Arrgh, why were we so hasty? We didn't even bring a rope, and we can't bring a worker. If they saw it, they'd claim for their own selfish purposes. Yeah, then I suppose it's the only way."  
  
Alec took off his trench coat and guns, for since he was lightest he'd be on the bottom. Romo grasped Alec's heels tightly, and Jardin did the same to Romo. Slowly, Romo lowered Durengeo into the pit, and Jardin lay on his belly as he dropped Romo down as well. Alec's face was inches from the razor sharp metal as he picked up the medallion carefully. He then shouted his success and was promptly lifted out. The three scrambled away from the dangerous area, and Alec handed Jardin the second medallion, explaining the bulky robotic-looking thing carved in the silver to be Magitek armor. The archeologist was about to manage a relieved volley of chortling when he felt tempered steel lodge carefully so as not to break skin below his Adam's apple. He gaped in shock as his eyes followed the length of the sword down to the wielder, Romo. The young knight's eyes were cold as iron as he swept out his crossbow with his left hand and pointed it toward Jardin. "Give me the medallions," he barked. "NOW!" 


	7. Gliders and Reunions

CHAPTER 7: GLIDERS AND REUNIONS  
  
Jardin wanted to laugh, to slap Romo on the back and congratulate him on his successful joke, but he knew that cold steel didn't lie.  
  
"I suppose you want some sort of. explanation on my sudden betrayal," Romo said nonchalantly with an irregular tone of bravado in his voice. "Now Jardin, did you not find it more then passing strange that one so important to the Convocation should be sent to war, where he could be killed or otherwise incapacitated?"  
  
"T-the thought had entered my mind," Jardin faltered in his shock.  
  
"Oh, you should have seen Readon when he found that you'd seen that bounty hunter contract on his desk. I thought he'd kill you on the spot! But you were dangerously close to discovering the plot before they had cultivated the necessities from you, so they sent you away. I was told to join the army with you, befriend you, and make sure no serious harm came to you."  
  
"You work for them? You were my bodyguard?"  
  
"In a word, yes. My assignment was to keep you alive and well. Now my instructions have changed slightly. During our leave in Igros, which had nothing to do with your military accomplishments but was arranged so we could acquire the necessary information from you, I consulted with the scholar in charge of our research. Of course, the only thing his department was assigned to was the Zanzira hoard. He told me about their recent findings, that one needed two medallions and that you, of all people, possessed one. I knew my new assignment without even consulting my superiors- to stay with you until you found both medallions."  
  
"You deceitful scoundrel!" roared Jardin, his voice brimming with anger, shock, and anguish.  
  
"Hey, don't blame me! Blame yourself or God," shrugged Romo, not knowing that years later another young knight would mimic those very words.  
  
"Funny time to bring up God, in a pagan temple devoted to a murderous deity of war," scowled Alec, furious at the treachery. "But if I remember rightly, wasn't your father killed by Readon's men? How does that fit in?"  
  
"Oh," sniggered the betrayer wickedly, "I forgot about old Descarei. I killed the fool myself. Don't look at me like that! I'm not patricidal! He wasn't my father, but he was ordered to lodge me under threat of death by torture. On the night Jardin overheard Readon, I stabbed Mr. Descarei, who had made critical comments of the Convocation in a popular tavern, and threw him outside. At that moment soldiers came to escort me back to the castle, but then I saw you, Jardin, running down the road. Thinking quickly, I rubbed a bit of the old man's blood on my face for effect and killed the nearest soldier. The others, of course, were rather shocked, and one even crossed swords with me, but then you came. A belated thank you for helping me out in that little misunderstanding."  
  
"You threatened a man with death if he didn't comply with your demands and then you killed him anyway?" blinked Alec. "That is low!"  
  
"Considering his options, a katana to the back is an absolutely delightful alternative to the long, slow arts of torture we've developed. His reward was not dying a traitor's death like he deserved."  
  
"You son of a-"  
  
"Oh, I'd be careful on how you speak to me, Alec Durengeo. Unless your skull is thicker then even I imagined, you should have noticed that I have the upper hand. Speaking of sons though, I think you may have heard of my real father, Alfund Griffin?"  
  
"Griffin?! Who is he?" breathed Jardin through the various emotions that smothered him like a blanket.  
  
"The Commander of the Army of United Nobles. In other words, he commands the collective armies of all the cities of Ivalice. He is quickly rising in power as a political figure. Readon plans to make him his right hand man when he takes leadership of the Convocation. Funny we should bring my father up. The poor man was sorely bereaved at the theft of the Holy Sword- I think I should take it back as a token of good will.  
  
"Come now, stop standing around like a pack of idiots. Throw the medallions and sword at my feet, and don't try anything foolish like throwing the sword at me in a violent manner. I am trained to kill with precision and utter lack of mercy. "  
  
Jardin withdrew the silver from his breast and looked up sadly at Romo. "I trusted you, Romalion."  
  
"What, you're getting formal all of the sudden?" sneered the young Griffin.  
  
"'Romo' was a name given in friendship and brotherhood," replied Jardin in the same soft voice. "Now, you're just another enemy, an obstacle between me and my goal."  
  
"Ugh!" sighed Romalion in an exasperated tone, "just give me the medallions and sword and spare me of such weakling sentiments!"  
  
Jardin drew Excalibur from its sheath, gazing once more at the crystalline blade, and tossed it and the medallions to the ground at Romo's boots. The knight snatched up the medallions, gingerly placing them in his pockets, and then grabbed the Holy Sword, but as his hands touched the black leather wrapped about the hilt, the weapon swung forward as if of it's own accord. The blade struck home in the traitor's upper right thigh, lancing the skin with a deep incision, and blood immediately welled forth. Romalion screeched a curse in pain as he lurched backwards, dropping the sword; Jardin saw his chance.  
  
He lunged forward, and struck once, twice, three times at Griffin's jaw with brutally powerful blows, then sweeping Excalibur from the ground he slashed at his midsection. Romo jumped backwards just as the cutting edge swept narrow inches from his belly and bounded out of the room with amazing speed despite a limping right leg. He turned at the doorway, a rivulet of blood running from his lip, and grinned, saying mockingly, "I suppose two out of three isn't bad. Ciao!" and with that, he ran down the hallway and out of sight.  
  
Alec cursed a blue streak, crying, "We're ruined! Readon has the medallions!"  
  
"No!" countered Jardin with sudden vehemence. "I won't accept defeat until my head is forced onto an executioner's block! There's always a chance of victory!"  
  
"I suppose you're right, but the darkness is oppressive," groaned Alec, his head flopping into his hands.  
  
"The first thing we need to do is get back into Ivalice, and establish both a sponsor and a fighting force."  
  
"Back into the lion's den, eh?" quipped Alec. "My mother always said I charged into a situation with reckless abandon, and mother's always right."  
  
Jardin managed a laugh through his tears. "Well Alec, I guess it's just you and me now, huh? We'd better get busy then!" The two young men, weary from the numerous adrenaline rushes and brushes with death they had come through, drug themselves out of the ancient place.  
  
As they emerged, they noticed the workers staring behind them, their eyes blinking. Noticing the newcomers, one exclaimed, "Good lord, man! Your other friend there, he ran out of there, pushing workers out of his way like nobody's business! Went straight for the stable, he did, and grabbed his chocobo, he did, and left like a bolt of thunder, no lie!"  
  
Ignoring the blabbering layman, the two ran toward the stable to do the same. " I know we're both tired," explained Alec, "but time is of the essence. Basically, we only have until they pinpoint the location of the hoard, but that will take time, since almost every mountain in that range has at least one cave that matches the description."  
  
In an hour, they were already well on their way back to Alec's residence. Time passed swiftly, and the chocobos were driven to the brink of exhaustion. Only once did Jardin break the grim disposition with speech. "Did you notice how Excalibur reacted when Romo touched it?" he asked.  
  
Alec nodded, turning his head toward his interrogator. "I could tell you all of that sword's history, if you asked, but for now I'll only say that it ain't called the Holy Sword for nothing. It was forged with the intention that only good would be done with it. As Romo touched it, the sword repelled against his evil intentions as magnets of similar poles resist each other. Unless a wicked man has the strength of will to neutralize this attribute, as I guess this Alfund Griffin to possess, only men with noble goals can wield it."  
  
The rest of the trip was traveled in silence. Since their desperation gave them speed, they reached the shack late that night. "Alright," said Alec. "By this time tomorrow, we'll be on Ivalice soil."  
  
"Hah! Easier said then done!" scoffed Jardin. "If you remember, a friend of mine already died going over the border!"  
  
"Ya know what your problem is, Jardin? You still ain't a believer yet! You are talking to THE Alec Durengeo, and with my unequaled abundance of ancient knowledge, you'll always find a few more options on your plate in any given situation.  
  
"Now this might sound crazy to you or me, but for recreation in the old days, people jumped off cliffs and soared through the air like birds."  
  
"Ugh, Alec, you've officially stepped over the eccentric line in to the completely implausible. People can't fly."  
  
"But they can glide, with the proper equipment of course. And that's how we're crossing the mountains- by using the gliders I've excavated. You just strap yourself into these fabric wings, hang on to a bar, and run off a cliff."  
  
Jardin choked, but before he was able to protest, he found himself being pushed into his bedroom. "We both need to get rest, so good night," Alec concluded abruptly before leaving for his own room.  
  
Nevertheless, sleep was far away as Jardin's mind raced with thought. He wasn't afraid of many things, but defying gravity? On an airship, maybe, but strapping wings onto one's back and hurling one's self off a cliff seemed like suicide. Still, if Alec felt it was the best way to get over, he had better comply. Were it not for Hammer's timely intervention, he would not have made it across the border the first time round. It seemed, then, that it was the best choice. Jardin's brow furled as he imagined the situations a mishap could result in, but he forced his mind any notions of failure. After all, contemplations of this sort were the kind that got people killed. But what would happen should they make it across the border in one piece? Through the rest of the night, he played scenarios of the events that would transpire in Ivalice, occasionally dozing, but never sleeping. Suddenly his bedroom door burst open. Light streamed in, making him squint at the silhouette framed by the doorway.  
  
"Mo-orning," sang the intruder, none other then Alec, in an off-key travesty that could only be described as painful. Shutting the door, Durengeo went off to get himself a cup of coffee from yesterday's brew, leaving Jardin alone to dress.  
  
As Jardin walked down the hall, he winced at the sound of more terrible crooning coming from the kitchen. Stepping through the door, he gawked in disbelief at Alec. The kid was more then a little drunk, propped up on the kitchen counter, coffee pot in hand. It seemed he'd been trying unsuccessfully to pour himself a cup, and the majority of the hot black liquid had collected in a large puddle on the floor. "Well, hey Jerdin!" he hiccuped. "Wouldja like some coffee?"  
  
Alec's head made a dull sploosh as Jardin thrust it yet again inside the wooden bucket filled to the brim with frigid water. "Sober yet?" he asked as he lifted the limp figure to his feet.  
  
"Awwww! Pleash stoppit!"  
  
In went Alec's head for another dunk.  
  
"Ach!" he sputtered. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"  
  
Alec got up, tossing his wet hair back. "Ah, now I have to fix my hair again!"  
  
"You should thank me," replied Jardin. "You cut a pretty pathetic drunk. Why'd you go and get wasted anyway?"  
  
Alec opened a drawer in a nearby desk and produced a small cardboard box and a match. Lighting the match on his boot heel, he withdrew a cigarette from the box and slipped it in his mouth, touching the flaming stick of wood to the paper covered tobacco. "Smoke?" he asked clumsily through the cigarette in his mouth, offering the pack.  
  
"No thanks," Jardin rejected, eyeing Durengeo warily. "I didn't know you smoked," he added haltingly.  
  
"Oh, I usually don't, thanks to my cousin. 'Smoking causes this and that and this and that,' he always says. But sometimes you need to throw the crap out the window, know what I'm saying? Basically I only light up when I'm nervous, and let me tell you, I've never been more nervous then I am now. That's why I got drunk last night. We are about to go into enemy territory, and we might die. I thought this was all just a fun game until that sword was held at my throat."  
  
"You don't need to come if you don't want to."  
  
"But you see, I need to come. At least." Alec's voice trailed off as his thoughts took him captive.  
  
"The chocobos are in, right?" groaned the gravely injured Thad Durengeo, turning over in his rudely fashioned stretcher of poles and coats look at his assistant and son, the 12 year old Alec. The lad walked beside him as the workers bore him back to the estate, biting his lip and fighting an onslaught of tears.  
  
"Y-yes, w-we brought them back right after the pulled the rubble from the accident away in the cart," came the weepy reply after a moment.  
  
"Good," sighed the senior, resigning himself back into the gentle fabric of the coats. Alec burst into a fresh set of tears.  
  
"Alec," snapped the father sharply but not cruelly, "You are the master of this dig now. Don't worry, you're uncle and cousin will take ownership of the rest, but you must tend to our special one once I pass on, and crying will not help any problem now or in the future."  
  
"Don't worry dad. You're strong. You'll pull through," said Alec with a surprising brightness, his words reeking of utter naivete.  
  
"Son, you fail to understand the seriousness of that landslide. I have taken a terrible injury."  
  
Alec said nothing, his lower lip quivering and his eyes filling.  
  
"Alec, I want you to become a great archeologist. Twenty years from now I want the history books to say that archeology became a major field of work and study instead of the mystery it is to the public today. I want to know it all started with you. If you're brave and bold, and if I have not greatly misjudged your character, it will happen."  
  
"Y-yessir," managed the youth.  
  
His father gave him a last loving arm squeeze, and Alec stopped, falling to the earth in hysterics. The workers bore the limp Thad past the blubbering boy without so much as a second glance, for haste had now become their mantra. But the father raised his head ever so slightly as to gaze at the adolescent until a deep black sheet spread across his eyes. When the carriers finally reached the mansion and doctor that waited, they found their burden had already been dead for at least ten minutes.  
  
Seven years had passed. Archeology was slightly more renowned in Tabreum, but elsewhere it was the same unknown that it was in the days of Thad Durengeo. Maybe, just maybe this could turn things around. Maybe he could fulfill a father's final charge to his son at last. After all, it was the sole motivation he had for living.  
  
"Yes," confirmed Durengeo, returning to reality. "I will go with you, but I fear we can't do anything against such a staggeringly powerful opponent."  
  
"But there's always a chance!" encouraged Jardin earnestly. "Always!"  
  
"In any case, let's go up to the shack."  
  
The pair did just that, and Alec stopped in front of the dusty table. Two large leather shoulder bags lay there. Alec took a long, slow drag on his cigarette before speaking. "Everything's in order, right? Then grab a bag." As Jardin did so he added with a mysterious grin, "They contain the secret to flight."  
  
At first, Jardin opened his mouth to question, but thought better of it. Let the kid have his game. Instead, he replied quickly, "Where are we going?"  
  
"Tearpoint pass," replied Durengeo easily, blowing a great billow of odorous smoke from slightly parted lips.  
  
Jardin began an unopinionated "Oh," but suddenly shot Alec a double take. "Tearpoint pass?! You idiot, that's the most heavily guarded border pass available!"  
  
Alec coolly eased himself into a chair and dropped his feet on top his desk, crossing his legs and removing the cigarette from his mouth. After he was quite comfortable, he inserted his smoke back into it's previously designated niche between his lips and folded his arms behind his head to act as a pillow. Finally, he closed his eyes and grinned, causing the cigarette to tilt upward at an angle, and said, "Open your mind, Jardin. Did you know before the border there's an excellent cliff?"  
  
And Jardin shut up with a knowing smirk.  
  
  
  
The wind whipped the two traveler's clothing about their skin. Alec laughed at the hearty breeze, and took a slurp at his index finger with his tongue.  
  
"Directly southwest." he mused. "That should take us directly over Hawkwood Hallow- a foresty area. I looked at some wind charts I borrowed from my cousin, and it said that there's a dangerous updraft this time of year because of a combo of the weather and terrain." Upon finishing his thoughts, he knelt back down to the mass of fabric and wooden framed he'd been working on.  
  
"Duly noted and stored away," replied Jardin, who was trying to figure out what the nature of an updraft wind exactly was. The Ivalician education system was very shoddy, focusing on history and basic math, literature, and grammar. Even in the enhanced training nobles received, science was rarely ever looked at, and if it was, the physics of wind was not the subject.  
  
Instead of asking about it, he instead inquired, "You're sure it was ok to let the chocobos go?"  
  
"They know they way back, and I told Z-83 to stable them."  
  
"I meant that we might need them if this doesn't work. But then again, we'll be dead if this doesn't work."  
  
"Oh, it'll work. You can trust me in that respect," Alec nodded confidently. "And, I believe I'm finished!"  
  
So it seemed. Jardin ogled at the two great structures Alec had put together. From a complex framework located in the middle, a steel bar protruded within easy reach. On top of the frame was hung a lavender, bat- like canvas carefully cut for a total wingspan of around fifteen feet.  
  
Alec helped Jardin strap himself to the device before preparing his own. Indeed, to Jardin they looked extremely ridiculous, and he couldn't see how this extra weight would help them defy gravity.  
  
Alec breathed once, and then suddenly took off for the edge. He leapt straight off, grabbing at the steel bar and leveling his body out. Unbelievably, the wind caught him and he soared directly southwest at an impressive speed. Jardin suddenly felt pain and realized he'd been gnawing on his lower lip in nervousness. Gulping, he prepared to take the plunge himself. He ran toward the drop, trying to mimic Alec in every way possible. The space between himself and the ledge decreased too quickly for comfort; he jumped, letting out a terrified scream. Instead of plunging to a grisly death, however, to his wonderment the wind lifted him up and propelled him forward. Nothing could have prepared him for the exhilaration of that moment- the wind wiping past him in an entirely pleasant manner, the somewhat unsettling sight of the ground hundreds of feet below him, and the mere notion that he was actually breaking nature's rules (to his mind, anyway)- he'd never felt anything like it before. Jardin let out a whoop of triumph, and then, looking forward, he saw Alec in the distance. He seemed to be pulling something, and what ever he was doing, it was slowing him down. Soon he was next to Jardin once again, and shouting over the roar of the wind, he hollered, "Careful! We're almost over Hawkwood Hallow, and-" suddenly Jardin's glider gave a shocking lurch upward, and a great gust of wind slammed against his chest.  
  
Screams welled in his throat, but the ever-persistent wind squelched any such notion. Jardin's eyes bulged as his glider wheeled out of control. He could hear Alec screaming out instructions mixed with random profanity, but it seemed far away and obscure. The ground became progressively closer, and his craft was heading straight for the center of a sprawling green forest. He looked back, and saw Alec swooping after him. Suddenly he plunged into the trees, bouncing off a branch and plummeting to the floor. The wings seemed to be slowing his fall- he halt for a moment, then fall again. The wings would catch between two trees, but his weight would always proved too much and down again he'd go. Finally, he hit the ground and slipped into the now-familiar state of unconsciousness.  
  
  
  
As Alec neared the forest, he began to fiddle with the straps that held him to the gliding craft. Just before the hit the leaves, he ditched the glider with a jump. Grabbing onto a tree branch for dear life, he slung his body on top into a safe perch in the tree. Then he made his way down the trunk to a branch near the forest floor, where he saw the limp form of Jardin.  
  
"Stupid! Idiot!" he scolded himself viciously. "I should have given him better instructions!"  
  
He hopped from the branch to the ground, where he hurried over to the prostrate form and checked his pulse. "Well, he's alive at least," he muttered. Suddenly, he gave a start. Shadows emerged from behind the trees and bushes. He heard distinctly the sounds of drawn blades, and taut longbow strings.  
  
Alec drew his guns uneasily, vowing to not let them get to Jardin's body without a price.  
  
A leader strode forward. It seemed at first that he was unarmed, but then it became obviously clear through his body build and almost haughty gait that his fist were just as deadly as a well forged sword. He wore a leather jerkin adorned with green silk and a baggy pair of forest brown pants that were tucked smartly into well cut brown boots. A scant goatee curled comically around his lips, and his jet-black hair fell across either side of his head down to his jaw. He first looked at Alec with a curious stare, then down to Jardin, whose head was now split with a nasty cut. He choked, staggered backwards into a tree, and then, containing himself, laughed.  
  
  
  
Light slowly poured into Jardin's eyes. Images blurry at first but increasingly sharp by the second were the visions that greeted the long benumbed soldier. As his head cleared, he realized he was lying in a huge, hollowed-out tree stump filled with heather and blankets. The next thing he became aware of was the presence of a linen cloth wrapped around his head like a headband. Fingering the cloth, he saw that it covered an angled cut on his forehead. As he did so, he laughed, realizing that it was deep, and it intersected with the older scar that graced his brow. Forever more, he would have a brown X on his face, a fact which bemused him. Suddenly, a door to his right opened, and Alec walked in. Just as Jardin greeted him, a taller young man, about Alec's age, strode in as well. Jardn's jaw instantly went slack.  
  
"Long time, no see, brother!" said the newcomer.  
  
Joy, dread, and anticipation consumed Jardin all at once. "J-Jezrel!" he gasped. 


End file.
